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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in movie lore – and he remains completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day in a literature class he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, went into acting, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and burst into tears.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls having lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply