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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply