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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding 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