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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply