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It stands as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe 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 began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply