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

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply