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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply