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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply