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Many consider it the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply