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It stands as the greatest introduction in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential 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. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way 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 Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply