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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply