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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply