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Many consider it the greatest introduction in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he lunges at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply