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It stands as the most iconic appearance in cinematic history – and he remains without moving a muscle.

A young FBI agent, just starting out, navigates a corridor of cells finally encountering the notorious doctor's secure glass tank. There he stands, with features like an animated death's head radiating satanic malice, eerily immobile in his form-fitting prisoner's blue outfit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself toward the window, emitting that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that genuine criminals are often very boring, lacking anything like Hopkins' captivating film persona.

He was not unrecognized upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but rather a megastar was cemented. His portrayal of Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his latest book, on Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on the Soviet leader as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding acting coach his mentor Fettes. The scenes also contained a paternal-filial aspect in these moments; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by an agonised guilt concerning Abigail, the estranged daughter from his failed first union during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the memorable figure in the narrative: a bread-maker and a tough individual, a plain speaker who detested the religious hypocrites of the chapel and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but had a streak of nostalgic, emotional sentimentality. It was Hopkins Sr who deeply disliked the way they had to go begging to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose spouse was acquainted with the famous Bevan and helped enroll Anthony as a boy into an elite school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves in the car on the way there. “We are all expecting handouts! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. Hopkins was a hopeless student at the prestigious school. Then, during during an English class he had to recite John Masefield's poem The West Wind – sight unseen – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He convincingly states that poems, alone, started his career. This, along with enrolling in the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting with the great Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then financial aid was available for drama school – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to perform the Yorick monologue from the play Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then went into another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company in a fit of pique – to Olivier's profound dismay and criticism – but stumbled upon a memorable TV character as a potential war criminal in the show based on Uris's work, which led indirectly to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, which he preferred over theater. He gave up alcohol in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to execute great performances, like Hannibal Lecter, the butler Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in his film The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He recalls 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 effective. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of Scorsese's Goodfellas? Not exactly. 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 believes you must to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Indeed. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And acquire some decency. You ever do that again in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! He appears to be a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent in King Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a lengthy appendix composed simply