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It stands as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected 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 in cinema, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply