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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply