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It stands as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again 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 came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply