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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes 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 felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply