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It stands as the most memorable appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply