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Widely regarded as the most iconic introduction in film history – yet the actor stays utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches Hannibal Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless before suddenly he throws himself against the glass, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless real-crime films have since demonstrated that genuine criminals are often very boring, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

He was not a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, and also from his strictly demanding Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a posh school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and his classmates. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, although in those days scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which eventually resulted to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. He stopped drinking in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the latter half of the memoir he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions going out for lunch alongside his cast mate in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the no-nonsense, practical performer who believes it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And develop some respect. You ever do that again around me, I'll rearrange your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

He finishes his autobiography with an extensive addendum composed simply