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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed 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 retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward 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.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply