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It stands as the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, chillingly static clad in a tight prisoner's blue outfit. He doesn't move until the moment he throws himself at the barrier, making that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was forged. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his icily exacting acting coach Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a sore point for Hopkins, who also describes how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character here: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who detested the religious hypocrites in their community and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to their rich relatives like Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he shouts in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, started his career. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to go to Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

As for the hot-tempered, bloody-minded son, he left the National Theatre in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He recalls being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! He appears to be someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. An actor of his caliber surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply