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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage 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 scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. 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 in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply