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It stands as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed for drama school – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He recalls going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply