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It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully 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 stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply