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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins 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!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply