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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply