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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness 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!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply