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Many consider it the greatest entrance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply