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It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply