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Many consider it the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply