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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply