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It stands as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

A young FBI agent, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. He is positioned, with features like a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself toward the window, producing that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. A multitude of true-crime documentaries have since demonstrated that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, lacking anything like the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: a star wasn't born, but rather a megastar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic in these moments; a sore point for Hopkins, who recounts how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his initial marriage during the 60s with Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the kid who maybe thought he wouldn't succeed. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player in this story: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. However, one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and to the astonishment of his parents, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then financial aid was available to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then retreated to another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – to Olivier's profound dismay and disapproval – but stumbled upon an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and so survived into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

During the second part of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Certain stories doesn't quite come off. He mentions having lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to get there on time, know all the crew's names and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply