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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part 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 luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply