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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield 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 poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall 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