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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – 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, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply