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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged 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 cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight 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. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply