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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

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 would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply