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It stands as the most memorable appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture 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, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. 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. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply