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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply