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It stands as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply