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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role 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 on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply