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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply