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Many consider it the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply