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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply