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It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise 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 portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

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, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply