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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply