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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” 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. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that 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 accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply