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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! 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 a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply