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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply