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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply