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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” 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 time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply