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Many consider it the greatest appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply