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Many consider it the most iconic introduction in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, new to the job, navigates a row of prison cells finally encountering Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, his face resembling a skeletal visage filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile wearing a snug blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers are often very boring, lacking anything like Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. Additionally, there existed a parent-child dynamic within the narrative; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an historical picture of Hopkins as a toddler playing on the sand with his father – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy hailing from Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure here: a bread-maker and a traditional male, a straightforward talker who despised the religious hypocrites of the chapel and avoided showing his emotions, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their rich relatives including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. However, one day during an English class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, pursued acting, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with the great Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He more or less did it on his own, even though back then there were grants for drama school – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: on asking his son to perform the Yorick monologue from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but fortunately found an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which led indirectly to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey on screen, which he liked more to the stage. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, like Hannibal Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the book he appears more reserved, more deliberate. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions having lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Truly?

He often portrays the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells facing a rude director who'd made a young extra cry: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” He appears to be a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of the lines about Kent from Cornwall in King Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A straightforward and sincere nature – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply