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

The FBI trainee, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized 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 a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! 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 a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply