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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise 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. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply