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It stands as the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply