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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential 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 compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall 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