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

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply