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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in movie lore – yet the actor stays completely still.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, navigates a corridor of cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. There he stands, his face resembling an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move right up until he lunges at the barrier, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: a star wasn't born, instead, a superstar emerged. His portrayal of Lecter drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his strictly demanding drama teacher his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a painful subject for the actor, who further explains how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who furiously resented the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at his new school. But one day during an English class he was required to perform John Masefield's poem titled The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated without much hope, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to go to Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to parts like that in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and so survived into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the latter half of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his portrayal of Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And develop some respect. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply