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It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, 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 in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as 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 dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as 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. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply