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It stands as the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug prisoner's blue outfit. He remains motionless before suddenly he lunges toward the window, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own rigorously precise Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a painful subject for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and his classmates. He reasonably claims that poetry, on its own, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed for drama school – a path to success for performers from modest means. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: on asking his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role as a potential war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which led indirectly to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, which he preferred over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his character seems more elusive, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells 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 someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply