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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply