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It stands as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for the actor, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply