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

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply