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It stands as the greatest entrance in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply