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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during 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 shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply