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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Hannibal Lecter's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, far from Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar was forged. The character of Hannibal was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own strictly demanding drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect within the narrative; a painful subject for Hopkins, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who resented his absences and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he wouldn't succeed. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and avoided expressing his feelings, but also exhibited nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented how they were forced humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and could get young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, for a time. Anthony struggled academically at the prestigious school. But one day in a literature class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he left the National Theatre in a moment of anger – to Olivier's profound dismay and displeasure – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to be on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Indeed. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way around me, I'll rearrange your face! Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's lines on Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he must speak truth!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply