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Many consider it the greatest appearance in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting drama teacher his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension within the narrative; a sore point for Anthony, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – a path to success for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for him to absorb something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and get on with it. Indeed. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. 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 accompanied it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply