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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself toward the window, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise 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 possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply