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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply