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Many consider it the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply