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

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon 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 David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply