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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, 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 Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply