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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony 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 departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to get there on time, 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: “Say sorry 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 a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply