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It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph 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, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply