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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply