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It stands as the greatest appearance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. 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 a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply