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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise 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 accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply