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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply