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It stands as the most memorable introduction in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and his drinking habits.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who loathed the religious hypocrites at the church and refused to displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poetry, on its own, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker 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! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's speech regarding 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