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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply