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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent 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 detailed supplement composed simply