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It stands as the most memorable appearance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, proceeds down a corridor of cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not a newcomer when he landed that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his icily exacting Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film 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 his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply