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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply