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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply