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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time 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 boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply