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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude 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! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply