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It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, 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 execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply