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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows 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