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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply