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It stands as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, 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 parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply