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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as 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 Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply