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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply