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Many consider it the greatest appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who further explains how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply