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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply