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

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell 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. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that 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 the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply