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It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply