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It stands as the greatest entrance in film history – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply