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It stands as the most iconic appearance in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another 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 fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply