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Widely regarded as the most memorable entrance in movie lore – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself at the barrier, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of real-crime films have since demonstrated that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. The character of Hannibal was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his King Lear was indirectly affected by an agonised guilt about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and drinking.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, shy and fragile youth from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a baker and a traditional male, a direct communicator who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims during the car ride. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, for a time. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during in a literature class he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – sight unseen – and that voice came to life; 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. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then went into another room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in cinema, that he favored compared to stage acting. And he quit booze in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the chance for him to absorb something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks it is one's responsibility to be on time, remember every crew member's name and proceed with the work. Quite so. Yet he also tells confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that accompanied it. A Shakespearean like him surely knows Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a lengthy appendix composed simply