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It stands as the most iconic introduction in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the 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, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply