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It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He was not a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he wouldn't succeed. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for him to absorb a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection that Sorvino was acting due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to arrive punctually, learn everyone's name on set and get on with it. Quite so. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with an extensive addendum composed simply