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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

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, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “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, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree 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 thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply