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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply