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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, 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 movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply