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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success 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.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply