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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply