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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

A young FBI agent, a rookie, proceeds down a corridor of cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, appearing as an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, chillingly static in his form-fitting blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous real-crime films have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, far from Anthony Hopkins's powerful on-screen charisma.

He wasn't exactly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins notes with amusement in his latest book, from Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader based on his daughter's accounts, as well as his strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a father-daughter dimension in these moments; a difficult topic for Hopkins, who also describes how his Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to his first wife, who disliked him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He appeared lost, shy and fragile youth hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a baker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the sanctimonious churchgoers at the church and refused to expressing his feelings, but also exhibited dreamy, sentimental tenderness. It was Hopkins Sr who was angered by how they were forced begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and was able to secure the young Anthony into an elite school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he raves in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student in his new institution. Then, during in an English lesson he had to recite the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he stunned the teacher and the other boys. He convincingly states that poetry, on its own, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Surprisingly, he exited school a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and shocking his family, was acting with Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for actors from humble backgrounds. His father was always amazed of Anthony's global success: when he asked Anthony to deliver the Yorick lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a moment of anger – causing Olivier's regret and displeasure – but lucked into a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to parts like that in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, which he liked more compared to stage acting. And he quit booze back in 1975 having been a hell-raising alcoholic, and managed to live into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, such as Lecter, the butler Stevens in the film The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his next Oscar win.

In the later sections of his autobiography he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories aren't entirely successful. He mentions going out for lunch by his co-star in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul, who wanted to tell him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. Hopkins seems to go along with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He repeatedly performs the no-nonsense, practical performer who thinks it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, 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: “Apologize to that girl! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Hopkins sounds like an individual who stopped drinking but maybe not the belligerence that came with it. A Shakespearean like him must know Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He does not know how to flatter! An honest mind and plain – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply