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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply