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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe 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 began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts 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! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply