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

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply