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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. 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 accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply