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It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply