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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. 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 began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “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! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply