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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply