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Many consider it the greatest appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way 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 surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply