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Many consider it the most memorable introduction in film history – yet the actor stays completely still.

Clarice Starling, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. The man is present, with features like a living skull exuding demonic evil, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He doesn't move before suddenly he propels himself at the barrier, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that real-life murderers are often very boring, far from Hopkins' captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly an unknown at the time he got that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, instead, a superstar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was based, the actor happily remembers in this new autobiography, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, as well as his strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a sore point for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked his time away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler 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, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in this story: a bread-maker and man's man, a plain speaker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in expressing his feelings, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, whose husband knew the politician Nye Bevan and could get the young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Due to their immense riches!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The humility worked, temporarily. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. But one day in an English lesson he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – without seeing it first – and that voice came to life; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He convincingly states that verse, by itself, propelled him forward. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA theater group. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, pursued acting, and shocking his family, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He more or less did it on his own, though at that time financial aid was available for drama school – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Concerning the volatile, stubborn individual, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – much to Olivier's disappointment and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which paved the way to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career in cinema, that he favored over theater. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s once a notorious drinker, and thus made it through midlife to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson featuring Emma Thompson and the old man with dementia in the movie The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more calculated. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He mentions being taken out to lunch alongside his cast mate in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Sorvino, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting by jealousy. Is that so?

He often portrays the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, know all the crew's names and proceed with the work. Absolutely. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! An honest mind and plain – he is compelled to be honest!”

Hopkins concludes his book with a detailed supplement composed simply