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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber 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!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply