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It stands as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he propels himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He was not an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he liked more to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson 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 he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply