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It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply