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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – 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 the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply