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It stands as the greatest entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment 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 by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from 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