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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply