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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. 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. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply