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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply