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Widely regarded as the most iconic entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. The man is present, his face resembling a skeletal visage exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless until the moment he throws himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since demonstrated that real-life murderers are usually uninteresting, far from the actor's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in The Silence of the Lambs back in 1989: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was unknowingly shaped by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to his first wife, who resented his absences and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a pastry chef and a tough individual, a straightforward talker who despised the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go cap-in-hand to their rich relatives such as Aunt Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the politician Nye Bevan and helped enroll the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he exclaims while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he had to recite John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, launched him. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in the film The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he preferred compared to stage acting. And he quit booze during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and managed to live through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including 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.

During the second part of the book he appears more reserved, more studied. Some of the anecdotage aren't entirely successful. He recalls being taken out to lunch by his co-star 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 advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as driven due to resentment. Truly?

He consistently acts as the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks it's your duty to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Quite so. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he must speak truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply