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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply