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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging 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 shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul 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 exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on 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 a detailed supplement composed simply