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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members including 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 are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply