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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

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, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply