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Many consider it the most memorable entrance in cinematic history – while he stands utterly motionless.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, navigates the line of detention units until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. The man is present, with features like an animated death's head filled with sinister intent, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue prison jumpsuit. He remains motionless right up until he throws himself against the glass, producing that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, far from the actor's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving the part that won him an Oscar in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar emerged. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, Hopkins notes with amusement in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a painful subject for the actor, who also describes how his Lear was unknowingly shaped by painful regret about Abigail, the daughter he was separated from from his failed first union back in 1966 with Petronella Barker, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The book's name comes from a vintage war-era photograph of a young Hopkins on the beach with his dad – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers in their community and avoided displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations like Auntie Patty, who was connected to the famous Bevan and was able to secure Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The pleading was effective, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically at his new school. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he shocked the educator and the other students. He says quite plausibly that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Remarkably, he left school with low prospects, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in just ten years. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and burst into tears.

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 an excellent television part as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which paved the way to roles such as in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more over theater. He stopped drinking back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live through midlife to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in The Remains of the Day featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Oscar.

In the later sections of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He mentions being taken out to lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul Sorvino, who intended to inform him his acting as Nixon wasn't effective. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who thinks you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologise to her! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink yet perhaps not the aggression that came with it. A classical performer like Hopkins must know Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply