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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed 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 pastry chef and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, 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 old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names 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 learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply