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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in film history – yet the actor stays without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, proceeds down a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, his face resembling a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself against the glass, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless true-crime documentaries have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving that Oscar-winning role in the 1991 thriller in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in his latest book, on the classic Dracula, on the Soviet leader according to his daughter's memories, and also from his icily exacting drama teacher Christopher Fettes. There was also a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who recounts how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who resented his time away and drinking.

The book's name comes from an historical picture of a young Hopkins with his father at the seaside – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and avoided showing his emotions, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who was angered by the way they had to go begging to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day in an English lesson he was required to perform the verse by John Masefield titled The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, launched him. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Remarkably, he left school without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the famous theater in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, although in those days financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe of Anthony's global success: on asking his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a suspected war criminal in the series QB VII, which paved the way to characters including in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. He stopped drinking back in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it through midlife to execute great performances, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the memoir his personality becomes more opaque, more calculated. A few tales fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch with his fellow actor in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Paul, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon was falling short. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Anthony appears to agree with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Is that so?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Indeed. However, he also describes facing a rude director who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And develop some respect. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply