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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply