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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply