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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply