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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph 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, shy and fragile youth 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 loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply