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It stands as the most memorable entrance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, 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 – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. 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 possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play 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