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

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him 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!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply