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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that genuine criminals are usually uninteresting, far from Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his rigorously precise Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter 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 a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “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 pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days there were grants to attend Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply