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It stands as the greatest introduction in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he propels himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into his later years to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply