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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply