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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply