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Many consider it the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. 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 classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply