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It stands as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty 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 brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply