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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply