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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply