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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days there were grants to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply