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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges against the glass, producing 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 commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply