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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in movie lore – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – an opportunity for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who believes you must to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply