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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' 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. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by 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 boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply