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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, 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 would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great 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 for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “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 a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply