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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply