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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply