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

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential 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, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply