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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply