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It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

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: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories 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 sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply