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It stands as the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to get there on time, 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: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply