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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply