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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – 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 this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply