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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. 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 the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply