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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! 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 someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply