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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found 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 thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking 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!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply