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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply