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It stands as the most memorable appearance in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise 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 maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply