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It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply