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Many consider it the greatest entrance in cinematic history – while he stands completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, proceeds down a row of prison cells until she reaches the notorious doctor's transparent prison. He is positioned, appearing as a living skull filled with sinister intent, chillingly static clad in a tight blue prison jumpsuit. He stands frozen before suddenly he lunges against the glass, making that distinctive snarling-hissing noise. Countless documentaries on serial killers have since revealed that actual serial killers tend to be quite dull, with nothing resembling Anthony Hopkins's captivating film persona.

He wasn't exactly an unknown at the time he got his Academy Award-winning part in the iconic film in 1989: it wasn't his debut, instead, a superstar was forged. His Dr. Lecter was inspired, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in this new autobiography, on the classic Dracula, on Joseph Stalin based on his daughter's accounts, and on his own icily exacting Rada tutor Christopher Fettes. The scenes also contained a father-daughter dimension to these scenes; a difficult topic for the actor, who further explains how his King Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret about Abigail, the estranged daughter from his initial marriage during the 60s to Petronella Barker, who resented him being away and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from an old wartime photo of Hopkins as a toddler on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He was a bewildered, lonely, vulnerable little boy from Port Talbot, the child of Richard Hopkins, the standout secondary character in the narrative: a baker and a tough individual, a direct communicator who detested the religious hypocrites at the church and didn't believe in displaying emotion, yet possessed a touch of dreamy, sentimental tenderness. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going cap-in-hand to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, whose husband knew the famous Bevan and helped enroll young Anthony into a prestigious academy: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he raves while traveling there. “We're all hoping for some pickings! Bloody rubbish, that's what it is!”

The humility worked, temporarily. He was a poor student at his new school. Then, during in a literature class he needed to deliver the verse by John Masefield The West Wind – without seeing it first – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other boys. He reasonably claims that poems, alone, launched him. This, and joining the YMCA drama club. Surprisingly, he exited school without much hope, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was acting alongside Laurence Olivier at the renowned Old Vic in under a decade. He accomplished it mostly independently, even though back then scholarships existed to attend Rada – an opportunity for performers from modest means. Richard Hopkins was continually impressed by his son's international fame: when he asked Anthony to perform the Yorick monologue from Hamlet, his father paid close attention and then left the room and burst into tears.

Regarding the fiery, stubborn individual, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – causing Olivier's regret and criticism – but lucked into a great TV role playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to characters including in David Lynch's The Elephant Man and a luminous film journey in movies, that he favored over theater. He stopped drinking in 1975 after being a heavy drinker, and thus made it into his later years to deliver outstanding roles, like Hannibal Lecter, the servant Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the elderly man with dementia in the movie The Father – his second Oscar.

In the latter half of his autobiography his character seems more elusive, more calculated. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers being taken out to lunch by his co-star in the film Nixon, the much-respected actor Paul, who intended to inform him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Hopkins to learn something from the legendary star of the Goodfellas fame? Not really. Anthony appears to agree with Stone's dismissal of Sorvino as being motivated by jealousy. Really?

He often portrays the tough, down-to-earth professional actor who believes it is one's responsibility to arrive punctually, remember every crew member's name and get on with it. Absolutely. However, he also describes standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who brought a background actor to tears: “Apologise to her! And acquire some decency. If you ever repeat that near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol but maybe not the belligerence that accompanied it. An actor of his caliber is aware of Cornwall's lines on Kent from Lear: “He is incapable of flattery! A truthful and simple spirit – he always tells the truth!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply