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Widely regarded as the greatest introduction in film history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, must walk the line of detention units finally encountering Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. There he stands, his face resembling a skeletal visage radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since shown that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, lacking anything like Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but a legend emerged. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked how they were forced cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. But one day during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of his autobiography his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. A few tales fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a lengthy appendix composed simply