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Widely regarded as the greatest appearance in cinematic history – and he remains completely still.

Clarice Starling, a rookie, must walk a row of prison cells arriving at Dr. Lecter's secure glass tank. The man is present, appearing as a living skull radiating satanic malice, unnervingly still wearing a snug blue inmate uniform. He doesn't move right up until he throws himself toward the window, producing that unforgettable spitting-growling noise. Countless real-crime films have since revealed that actual serial killers are usually uninteresting, with nothing resembling Hopkins' commanding screen presence.

Hopkins was hardly a newcomer when he landed the part that won him an Oscar in the 1991 thriller during the late 80s: it wasn't his debut, but a legend was forged. The character of Hannibal drew influence, Hopkins cheerfully recalls in his recent memoir, from Lugosi's Dracula, on Joseph Stalin as recalled by his daughter, and on his own strictly demanding Rada tutor his instructor Fettes. The scenes also contained a parent-child dynamic to these scenes; a difficult topic for Anthony, who further explains how his portrayal of Lear was subconsciously influenced by painful regret regarding his daughter Abigail, the estranged daughter from his disastrous first marriage back in 1966 to his first wife, who was angered by his absences and his drinking habits.

The memoir's title is derived from a vintage war-era photograph of Anthony as a small child on the beach with his dad – the child who might have felt he would never do OK. He felt confused, isolated and sensitive child hailing from Port Talbot, his father was Richard Arthur Hopkins, the standout secondary character in this story: a baker and a traditional male, a plain speaker who detested the Bible-punching hypocrites in their community and refused to showing his emotions, but had a streak of wistful, tearful romanticism. His father who furiously resented the necessity of going begging to their wealthy relations including Auntie Patty, who was connected to Nye Bevan and was able to secure young Anthony into a posh school: “Since they are extremely wealthy!” he exclaims in the car on the way there. “Everyone is looking for scraps! Absolute nonsense, that's the truth!”

The pleading was effective, for a while. He was a poor student in his new institution. However, one day in a literature class he was required to perform the poem by Masefield known as The West Wind – sight unseen – and his talent emerged; he amazed the instructor and the other students. He reasonably claims that verse, by itself, started his career. Combined with participating in the YMCA theater group. Notably, he graduated with low prospects, went into acting, and amazingly to his parents, was on stage alongside Laurence Olivier at the famous theater in under a decade. He largely achieved it alone, though at that time there were grants to attend Rada – a way up for working-class actors. His dad remained in awe by his son's international fame: upon requesting his son to recite the Yorick speech from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Hopkins Sr listened attentively and then retreated to another room and began crying.

Regarding the fiery, bloody-minded son, he quit the National Theatre company out of frustration – much to Olivier's disappointment and displeasure – but fortunately found a memorable TV character playing an alleged war criminal in Leon Uris's QB VII, which eventually resulted to roles such as in Lynch's The Elephant Man and a thriving starry career on screen, which he liked more over theater. And he quit booze in 1975 once a notorious drinker, and thus made it into his later years to achieve remarkable acting, including Lecter, the steward Stevens in the movie with Emma Thompson with Emma Thompson and the senior with memory loss in the movie The Father – his second Academy Award.

During the second part of the memoir he appears more reserved, more studied. Certain stories fall a bit flat. He remembers going out for lunch by his co-star in Oliver Stone's Nixon, the esteemed thespian Sorvino, who sought to advise him his performance as Nixon wasn't working. Was this the opportunity for Anthony to gain insight a lesson from the famous actor from Goodfellas? Hardly. He tends to concur with the director's criticism that Sorvino was acting out of envy. Really?

He consistently acts as the grounded, serious thespian who maintains it's your duty to be on time, learn everyone's name on set and proceed with the work. Absolutely. But he also recounts standing up to an unpleasant filmmaker who caused a young extra to weep: “Say sorry to her! And learn some manners. You ever do that again near me, I'll alter your appearance!” Anthony comes across as a person who quit alcohol yet perhaps not the aggression that went with it. A Shakespearean like him must know the lines about Kent from Cornwall from the play Lear: “He cannot flatter, he! A truthful and simple spirit – he is compelled to be honest!”

Anthony ends his memoir with a detailed supplement composed simply