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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: a star wasn't born, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it's your duty to be on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. But he also recounts facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply