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It stands as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply