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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in film history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, 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.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from 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