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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply