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Many consider it the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply