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It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes 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 was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply