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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply