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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence 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 performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply