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Widely regarded as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he lunges against the glass, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who recounts how his King Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. However, one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but fortunately found an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his portrayal of Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven by jealousy. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply