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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply