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It stands as the most iconic appearance in movie lore – while he stands utterly motionless.

The FBI trainee, new to the job, must walk a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's reinforced glass enclosure. There he stands, appearing as a living skull exuding demonic evil, unnervingly still clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen until the moment he propels himself against the glass, emitting that extraordinary hissing-slavering sound. A multitude of documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that real-life murderers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling the actor's captivating film persona.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer upon receiving his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: he was already established, but rather a megastar was cemented. His Dr. Lecter drew influence, the actor happily remembers in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin according to his daughter's memories, as well as his rigorously precise acting coach his instructor Fettes. Additionally, there existed a paternal-filial aspect to these scenes; a painful subject for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by deep-seated remorse regarding his daughter Abigail, his distant daughter from his failed first union in 1966 to Petronella Barker, who was angered by him being away and his alcohol use.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Hopkins as a toddler with his father at the seaside – the boy who perhaps believed he couldn't make it. He appeared lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy raised in Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the scene-stealing supporting player here: a pastry chef and man's man, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, but also exhibited wistful, tearful romanticism. Richard Hopkins who was angered by the way they had to go humbly to affluent family members including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew Nye Bevan and could get Anthony as a boy into a posh school: “Because they're bloody rich!” he shouts while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Total garbage, that's all it is!”

The humility worked, for a while. Anthony struggled academically in his new institution. But one day in a literature class he needed to deliver John Masefield's poem known as The West Wind – without prior preparation – and his voice awakened; he stunned the teacher and the other students. He says quite plausibly that poems, alone, started his career. Combined with participating in the dramatic society at the YMCA. Notably, he graduated a no-hoper, entered the acting world, and to the astonishment of his parents, was performing alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater within 10 years. He accomplished it mostly independently, though at that time scholarships existed to go to Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His father was always amazed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, Richard listened carefully and then left the room and wept openly.

Concerning the volatile, strong-willed son, he departed the theatrical troupe out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and disapproval – but lucked into an excellent television part playing an alleged war criminal in the series QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in the film The Elephant Man and a successful acting career in movies, that he favored to the stage. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and managed to live into middle age to execute great performances, such as Lecter, the steward Stevens in The Remains of the Day alongside Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of the memoir his character seems more elusive, more studied. A few tales doesn't quite come off. He remembers having lunch with his fellow actor in the film Nixon, the highly regarded performer Paul Sorvino, who sought to advise him his acting as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the moment for Anthony to gain insight advice from the renowned performer of the Goodfellas fame? Not exactly. He tends to concur with Stone's rejection of Sorvino as being motivated due to resentment. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes you must to get there on time, learn everyone's name on set and do the job. Indeed. However, he also describes confronting an obnoxious director who caused a young extra to weep: “Apologize to that girl! And learn some manners. Should you ever act that way in front of me, I'll change the shape of your face! Anthony comes across as someone who gave up drink but possibly not the combativeness that went with it. A classical performer like Hopkins is aware of Cornwall's speech regarding Kent from the play Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Hopkins concludes his book with an extensive addendum composed simply