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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. 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 more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with 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 an extensive addendum composed simply