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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply