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It stands as the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply