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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, 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 including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply