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It stands as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed 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 bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply