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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in film history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, proceeds down the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since shown that real-life murderers are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his rigorously precise drama teacher his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and man's man, a plain speaker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going humbly to affluent family members like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he shouts during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “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 but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply