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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, 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 The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply