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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, 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 iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply