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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “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. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, 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, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler 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 memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply