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Widely regarded as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts 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!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply