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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. 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 seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply