Part One: The Show Itself
As you know, all my reviews of things - from Egypt to Eureka, from the Dickens Faire to Jesus Christ Superstar - all include some sort musing on their connection to the larger elements of humanity, and, if at all possible, the Divine. This is another one of those things, so feel free to read even, no matter whether you are or are not partial to Hugh Jackman's work. I'll call him "HJ" by the way - in keeping me with my tradition of using initials here, and also because "Hugh" is way familiar, "Jackson" is way too Midwest-sounding, and "Hugh Jackman" in full is just awkward.
First of all, what was it? When I posted on Facebook something about going to a Hugh Jackman concert, the overwhelming response was "Why? Does he sing or something?" He does, indeed; he has roots in musical theater, notably Oklahoma (available on DVD; I've seen it), and I can verify the man has the chops - and I don't mean those great Wolverine sideburns, but the ability to real belt it out as good as I've heard. You may have caught an inkling of it, as I did, when he hosted the Oscars in 2009 and gave a stunning, exuberant performance, and looked as good in a top hat and tails as a man can look, really.
The performance - called, rather obviously but fittingly, "Hugh Jackman in Performance" - was basically a couple of hours of HJ sharing himself with us: his winning smile, his charismatic personality, even a little of his background (the audience had to imagine the goofy picture of his 14-year old self he was planning to share, as it was unavailable due to opening-night tech snafus), and, of course, his favorite songs. The music was an eclectic mix of Hollywood and Broadway hits, from the Elvis/Oceans 11 hit "A Little Conversation" to a classic movie songs medley (yes, HJ's the type of singer than likes AND can pull of medleys - no easy feat) to the ukulele Iz classic "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," which, I was happy to say, was done with a solo uke. It's nice to see the ukulele getting the prominence and recognition it deserves.
It was heavy on Broadway numbers I wasn't familiar with, which is funny, because I've always, perhaps wrongly, thought of myself as a pretty well-versed Broadway fan; it included a few more tender and/or dramatic pieces (like "Soliloquy" from Carousel") and HJ put forth his considerable acting powers to make those moments quite lovely and moving, even when I didn't know the story. I'll admit I teared up a few times, just moved by his being moved by the song. He also re-created his first audition, for The Music Man, in which he sang all eight Salesman parts in this rapid-fire acapella song: it was knock-your-socks off impressive, for technique alone.
I also laughed a lot - he's very funny, and extremely quick. He had jokes and stories (well-rehearsed but coming off with a spontaneous flavor, the real razor's edge of one-man cabaret shows), as well as crowd-pleasing moves, like doing fun action-y faux fight moves with the two backup singers during one: SO gratifying to see in person, and he even did the "claws out" forearm-bearing Wolverine stance - at the end of a sort of twirl, though: this sort of playful mixed-message (he's funny, he sexy) was a theme of the evening.
But what is that REALLY telling you about the show? That's all just the facts, but the flavor....ah, the flavor was something else, and I don't really know how to describe it. I didn't know what to expect when I bought my ticket - and I splurged for a really good seat, four rows back, and on the aisle (which, as it turned out, was a very wise move) - but when the curtain came up and revealed the 17-piece orchestra in cool, old school individual blue-lit boxes (think Tom Jones in Vegas, or 30's nightclubs), and two backup singers glitzed out within an inch of their slick, sequined bodies, I knew I was in for something. Despite me being someone who loves Jesus Christ Superstar, and musicals in general, I have really developed in recent years into more of an "acoustic uke in your living room" kind of gal, and this unexpected and surprising step back into jazz hands and belting out big notes and winking at audience members threw me back, in a good way, to my roots of show choirs and the more...well, guilty-pleasure feel of popular music.
I was unprepared too, for HJ himself; I didn't know what to expect, but there he was, decked out in a classy understated dark suit and light blue shirt, and full of all the qualities that make a master showman: confidence, charisma, authentic effervescence. You could see he was putting his whole person in to what he was doing: Performing with a capital P, just letting it all out. Being himself right there on stage, correctly assuming his buoyancy and sheer vitality - his obvious zest for life - would be enchanting, and that any less-than-perfect moments would only make him more human and likable, which it did.
The audience participation was extensive. HJ was not only unfazed by the padded leather handcuffs someone tossed up onstage, he used them as a prop throughout the evening. He wandered down into the audience many times, rather extravagantly. One gent was dragged up on stage to bump and grind with the backup girls as HJ himself climbed over people to sit in the vacated chair next to the guy's wife, and sing a verse of a song from the third row.
I was very close to one of the little scenes: an older lady across the aisle from me in a wild hat, who turned out to be a locally-known movie critic, was an obvious enormous fan, and HJ went right to her for some interaction and conversation. It also happened to be her birthday. He kept referencing her all night, looking over and asking questions ("Should I re-make Carousel? Good idea or no?"), an anchor in the audience. She was thrilled with the attention and, like most of the other women, took as much as she could get, hugging him, kissing him. His reactions to these attentions were basically a combination of surprise (Oh, ok, hel-lo!) and compliance (he hugged right back); he was unguarded and unfazed.
Anyway, he was about two feet from me for a while, during this whole thing with the movie critic, and at one point there was this weird moment. (The audience was shouting out things - he encouraged that - and he had to sort of try and keep an ear on everyone.) I think he thought I said something (I hadn't) and he looked over at me, and even sort of made a move towards me, combined with a sort of "can you believe this feisty old lady?" glance, replete with winking conspiratorial grin, but the woman re-demanded his attention and that was that. It was a bit surreal; actually, I've had that experience quite a bit - of someone you only know from films suddenly in person and looking directly at you, and it's always surreal.
HJ's desire to connect with and please the people around him was infectious and pretty refreshing. "Take pictures all you want," he said, and I began to understand he's got a streak of exhibitionism in him: something rather rare, I think, in top line A-list Hollywood male actors, who usually keep it all under wraps, pretense or not. Indeed, at one point, after his one semi-dance number (beefing up for the next Wolverine movie means no weight-losing show stopping dances), he even ripped his pants right up the butt - yes, he turned around to show us. And in true "show must go on" fashion, and because he knew it would please the crowd, he decided to change on stage. The wardrobe mistress came out with a new pair, he kicked off his shoes and awkwardly tried to unfasten his belt while juggling the handheld mic, joking all the while. Finally, she had to undress him.
And then, there he was, Hugh Jackman, pantsless, in socks and shirt complete with little embarrassing showbiz shirt-holding down elastic dohickey dangling behind his ass. Now, I like a sexy, well-built man as much as as the next woman, but we all know there's a big difference between a shirtless man (to die for) and a merely pantsless man (endearing and sweet). Yes, it was a spontaneous moment, and while I appreciate my acquired ability to speak with authority now about a pantsless Hugh Jackman (because who knew THAT was in my future?), it was less sexy than it was impressive, more about me enjoying witnessing his ability to go with the "warts and all" theme.
So despite my extreme amusement (the entire pantsless episode was pretty much delightful off the scale), I could feel the tide began to turn for me in some way. It wasn't just his unexpected jazz-hands, the silly exaggerated prancing (he came out at one point in a white shirt, tied Mary Ann fashion at the waist and decorated with pineapple sequins: his Boy From Oz Peter Allen alter ago, whom he played on Broadway) and his winking conspiratorial grins....it wasn't just that penetratingly rich combination of his ironic self-awareness and his supreme joyful self-possession. Something else was happening to me, and instead of merely watching a pleasant and entertaining performance, the evening began to change for me, and take on a more personal and dramatic turn, and to explain that, I need to go back a bit and give some details. So if you are interested in all that, feel free to read Part Two.
As you know, all my reviews of things - from Egypt to Eureka, from the Dickens Faire to Jesus Christ Superstar - all include some sort musing on their connection to the larger elements of humanity, and, if at all possible, the Divine. This is another one of those things, so feel free to read even, no matter whether you are or are not partial to Hugh Jackman's work. I'll call him "HJ" by the way - in keeping me with my tradition of using initials here, and also because "Hugh" is way familiar, "Jackson" is way too Midwest-sounding, and "Hugh Jackman" in full is just awkward.
First of all, what was it? When I posted on Facebook something about going to a Hugh Jackman concert, the overwhelming response was "Why? Does he sing or something?" He does, indeed; he has roots in musical theater, notably Oklahoma (available on DVD; I've seen it), and I can verify the man has the chops - and I don't mean those great Wolverine sideburns, but the ability to real belt it out as good as I've heard. You may have caught an inkling of it, as I did, when he hosted the Oscars in 2009 and gave a stunning, exuberant performance, and looked as good in a top hat and tails as a man can look, really.
The performance - called, rather obviously but fittingly, "Hugh Jackman in Performance" - was basically a couple of hours of HJ sharing himself with us: his winning smile, his charismatic personality, even a little of his background (the audience had to imagine the goofy picture of his 14-year old self he was planning to share, as it was unavailable due to opening-night tech snafus), and, of course, his favorite songs. The music was an eclectic mix of Hollywood and Broadway hits, from the Elvis/Oceans 11 hit "A Little Conversation" to a classic movie songs medley (yes, HJ's the type of singer than likes AND can pull of medleys - no easy feat) to the ukulele Iz classic "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," which, I was happy to say, was done with a solo uke. It's nice to see the ukulele getting the prominence and recognition it deserves.
It was heavy on Broadway numbers I wasn't familiar with, which is funny, because I've always, perhaps wrongly, thought of myself as a pretty well-versed Broadway fan; it included a few more tender and/or dramatic pieces (like "Soliloquy" from Carousel") and HJ put forth his considerable acting powers to make those moments quite lovely and moving, even when I didn't know the story. I'll admit I teared up a few times, just moved by his being moved by the song. He also re-created his first audition, for The Music Man, in which he sang all eight Salesman parts in this rapid-fire acapella song: it was knock-your-socks off impressive, for technique alone.
I also laughed a lot - he's very funny, and extremely quick. He had jokes and stories (well-rehearsed but coming off with a spontaneous flavor, the real razor's edge of one-man cabaret shows), as well as crowd-pleasing moves, like doing fun action-y faux fight moves with the two backup singers during one: SO gratifying to see in person, and he even did the "claws out" forearm-bearing Wolverine stance - at the end of a sort of twirl, though: this sort of playful mixed-message (he's funny, he sexy) was a theme of the evening.
But what is that REALLY telling you about the show? That's all just the facts, but the flavor....ah, the flavor was something else, and I don't really know how to describe it. I didn't know what to expect when I bought my ticket - and I splurged for a really good seat, four rows back, and on the aisle (which, as it turned out, was a very wise move) - but when the curtain came up and revealed the 17-piece orchestra in cool, old school individual blue-lit boxes (think Tom Jones in Vegas, or 30's nightclubs), and two backup singers glitzed out within an inch of their slick, sequined bodies, I knew I was in for something. Despite me being someone who loves Jesus Christ Superstar, and musicals in general, I have really developed in recent years into more of an "acoustic uke in your living room" kind of gal, and this unexpected and surprising step back into jazz hands and belting out big notes and winking at audience members threw me back, in a good way, to my roots of show choirs and the more...well, guilty-pleasure feel of popular music.
I was unprepared too, for HJ himself; I didn't know what to expect, but there he was, decked out in a classy understated dark suit and light blue shirt, and full of all the qualities that make a master showman: confidence, charisma, authentic effervescence. You could see he was putting his whole person in to what he was doing: Performing with a capital P, just letting it all out. Being himself right there on stage, correctly assuming his buoyancy and sheer vitality - his obvious zest for life - would be enchanting, and that any less-than-perfect moments would only make him more human and likable, which it did.
The audience participation was extensive. HJ was not only unfazed by the padded leather handcuffs someone tossed up onstage, he used them as a prop throughout the evening. He wandered down into the audience many times, rather extravagantly. One gent was dragged up on stage to bump and grind with the backup girls as HJ himself climbed over people to sit in the vacated chair next to the guy's wife, and sing a verse of a song from the third row.
I was very close to one of the little scenes: an older lady across the aisle from me in a wild hat, who turned out to be a locally-known movie critic, was an obvious enormous fan, and HJ went right to her for some interaction and conversation. It also happened to be her birthday. He kept referencing her all night, looking over and asking questions ("Should I re-make Carousel? Good idea or no?"), an anchor in the audience. She was thrilled with the attention and, like most of the other women, took as much as she could get, hugging him, kissing him. His reactions to these attentions were basically a combination of surprise (Oh, ok, hel-lo!) and compliance (he hugged right back); he was unguarded and unfazed.
Anyway, he was about two feet from me for a while, during this whole thing with the movie critic, and at one point there was this weird moment. (The audience was shouting out things - he encouraged that - and he had to sort of try and keep an ear on everyone.) I think he thought I said something (I hadn't) and he looked over at me, and even sort of made a move towards me, combined with a sort of "can you believe this feisty old lady?" glance, replete with winking conspiratorial grin, but the woman re-demanded his attention and that was that. It was a bit surreal; actually, I've had that experience quite a bit - of someone you only know from films suddenly in person and looking directly at you, and it's always surreal.
HJ's desire to connect with and please the people around him was infectious and pretty refreshing. "Take pictures all you want," he said, and I began to understand he's got a streak of exhibitionism in him: something rather rare, I think, in top line A-list Hollywood male actors, who usually keep it all under wraps, pretense or not. Indeed, at one point, after his one semi-dance number (beefing up for the next Wolverine movie means no weight-losing show stopping dances), he even ripped his pants right up the butt - yes, he turned around to show us. And in true "show must go on" fashion, and because he knew it would please the crowd, he decided to change on stage. The wardrobe mistress came out with a new pair, he kicked off his shoes and awkwardly tried to unfasten his belt while juggling the handheld mic, joking all the while. Finally, she had to undress him.
And then, there he was, Hugh Jackman, pantsless, in socks and shirt complete with little embarrassing showbiz shirt-holding down elastic dohickey dangling behind his ass. Now, I like a sexy, well-built man as much as as the next woman, but we all know there's a big difference between a shirtless man (to die for) and a merely pantsless man (endearing and sweet). Yes, it was a spontaneous moment, and while I appreciate my acquired ability to speak with authority now about a pantsless Hugh Jackman (because who knew THAT was in my future?), it was less sexy than it was impressive, more about me enjoying witnessing his ability to go with the "warts and all" theme.
So despite my extreme amusement (the entire pantsless episode was pretty much delightful off the scale), I could feel the tide began to turn for me in some way. It wasn't just his unexpected jazz-hands, the silly exaggerated prancing (he came out at one point in a white shirt, tied Mary Ann fashion at the waist and decorated with pineapple sequins: his Boy From Oz Peter Allen alter ago, whom he played on Broadway) and his winking conspiratorial grins....it wasn't just that penetratingly rich combination of his ironic self-awareness and his supreme joyful self-possession. Something else was happening to me, and instead of merely watching a pleasant and entertaining performance, the evening began to change for me, and take on a more personal and dramatic turn, and to explain that, I need to go back a bit and give some details. So if you are interested in all that, feel free to read Part Two.
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