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It stands as the most iconic introduction in film history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, with nothing resembling the actor's commanding screen presence.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being 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 boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to be on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply