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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply