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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book 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 Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply