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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived 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 felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply