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Many consider it the most iconic entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, must walk a corridor of cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, his face resembling an animated death's head exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that genuine criminals tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly an unknown upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the iconic film during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage back in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a pastry chef and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who deeply disliked how they were forced 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: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then scholarships existed for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed 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, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in movies, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Hopkins seems to go along with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply