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

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward 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 later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply