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It stands as the greatest appearance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply