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It stands as the most iconic introduction in film history – and he remains completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age 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 Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply