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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. 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 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. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply