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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he lunges toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply