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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

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 kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply