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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply