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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply