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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply