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

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got 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 this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and refused to 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 husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. 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, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply