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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating 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 the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character 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 thriving starry career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply