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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply