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It stands as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply