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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “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 in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply