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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who disliked his absences and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. 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 yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply