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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he lunges against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply