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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply