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It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement 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 Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure 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 humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer 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 often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply