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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from 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 fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. 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 in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply