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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells arriving at the notorious doctor's transparent prison. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen until the moment he lunges toward the window, emitting that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his time away and his drinking habits.

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 would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a baker and man's man, a direct communicator who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during during an English class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was on stage with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, although in those days financial aid was available to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and managed to live through midlife to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Hardly. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who maintains you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber must know Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply