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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply