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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply