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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply