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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply