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It stands as the greatest introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply