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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. 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, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply