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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Anthony, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The title originates from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and refused to showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but fortunately found a great TV role playing an alleged 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 in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply