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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: 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 also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply