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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply