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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells arriving at Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen right up until he propels himself at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but a legend was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, his distant daughter from his initial marriage in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away 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 boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. His father who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. A few tales fall a bit flat. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry 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 yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply