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It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “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. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply