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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. 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 against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply