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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply