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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield 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, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “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 a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply