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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – 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 standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply