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Widely regarded as the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since shown that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher his mentor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who was angered by his absences and drinking.

The title originates from an old wartime photo of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected 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 movies, that he favored over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. A few tales aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply