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It stands as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age 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 Oscar.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply