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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part 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 compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply