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Widely regarded as the greatest entrance in film history – while he stands without moving a muscle.

The FBI trainee, just starting out, navigates the line of detention units arriving at Dr. Lecter's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, eerily immobile clad in a tight blue inmate uniform. He stands frozen right up until he throws himself at the barrier, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Numerous documentaries on serial killers have since shown that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly unrecognized when he landed that Oscar-winning role in The Silence of the Lambs during the late 80s: he was already established, but a legend was cemented. The character of Hannibal was based, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. There was also a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a sore point for Anthony, who recounts how his Lear was indirectly affected by painful regret concerning Abigail, his distant daughter from his disastrous first marriage 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 Anthony as a small child playing on the sand with his father – the kid who maybe thought he couldn't make it. He felt confused, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, son of Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and man's man, a straightforward talker who loathed the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who deeply disliked the way they had to go humbly to their wealthy relations such as Aunt Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into an elite school: “Due to their immense riches!” he raves while traveling there. “We are all expecting handouts! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The grovelling paid off, temporarily. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he needed to deliver the poem by Masefield The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he shocked the educator and the other students. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, propelled him forward. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Notably, he graduated without much hope, entered the acting world, and amazingly to his parents, was performing with Laurence Olivier at the Old Vic in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – a path to success for actors from humble backgrounds. His dad remained in awe with Anthony's worldwide acclaim: upon requesting his son to deliver the Yorick lines from the play Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then retreated to another room and wept openly.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he departed the theatrical troupe in a fit of pique – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into an excellent television part as a suspected war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career on screen, that he favored compared to stage acting. He gave up alcohol during the mid-70s after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into middle age to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the servant Stevens in The Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in The Father – his second Academy Award.

In the later sections of the book his personality becomes more opaque, more deliberate. Some of the anecdotage fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch with his fellow actor in Stone's Nixon, the highly regarded performer Sorvino, who wanted to tell him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the chance for Hopkins to learn a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated out of envy. Really?

He repeatedly performs the grounded, serious thespian who thinks you must to get there on time, remember every crew member's name and do the job. Quite so. Yet he also tells standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. If you ever repeat that in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Hopkins sounds like someone who gave up drink but maybe not the belligerence that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins 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 an extensive addendum composed simply