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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply