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Many consider it the most memorable appearance in cinematic history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself at the barrier, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown when he landed his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller back in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was forged. The character of Hannibal was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret concerning Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in showing his emotions, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the necessity of going humbly to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. He was a poor student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, and joining the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then there were grants for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then went into another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but fortunately found a great TV role as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and so survived through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Is that so?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with a detailed supplement composed simply