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It stands as the most iconic entrance in film history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself toward the window, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a sore point for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who despised the religious hypocrites in their community and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to affluent family members such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, went into acting, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply