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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply