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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply