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It stands as the most memorable introduction in cinematic history – and he remains utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he lunges toward the window, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and also from his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage doesn't quite come off. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply