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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply