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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry 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 yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply