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It stands as the most memorable appearance in film history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply