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It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, 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 acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again 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 accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply