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

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged 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 cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply