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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “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 pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director 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!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent 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 a lengthy appendix composed simply