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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply