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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply