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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply