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It stands as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply