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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way 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 accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply