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It stands as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he lunges against the glass, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly 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 emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school 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 largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply