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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply