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

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity 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, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply