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It stands as the greatest appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply