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

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! 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 a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply