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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, but a legend emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own rigorously precise drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The title originates from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked how they were forced humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be 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 is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply