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Many consider it the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply