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

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic 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 father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply