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It stands as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. 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 butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “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! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply