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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply