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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply