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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply