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It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir 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 esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply