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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names 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 acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply