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It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply