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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply