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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture 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, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious 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! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply