Yet another new article – this one from The Guardian – has been released, with an emphasis on Real Steel, The Wolverine, and Hugh’s early days as a performer. He tells the story about his brother calling him a “poof” again, this time equating his experience to being the “ten-minute Billy Elliot.” There’s some great insight into Hugh, both from himself and the reporter, so check out the excerpt below and then head over to the source to read more. It’s also been added to the press archive.
The day before I am due to interview Hugh Jackman, the Australian actor drops a tantalising hint on Twitter. “Hey tweeters, I have something exciting to announce soon,” he writes. “What could it be?” What indeed? I can’t help but think back to the last time I met him, shortly before the release in 2006 of The Prestige. Christopher Nolan’s thriller about two rival magicians (the other was Christian Bale) contains Jackman’s richest screen performance to date: he reveals hidden torment behind the conjuror’s curtain-calls-and-bouquets persona, one that he will know from his parallel career as a lead actor in musical theatre (an existence of which the majority of X-Men fans are probably oblivious).
The Prestige was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, then padlocked in a chest and dropped in the ocean. Some people think the same applies to Jackman. A friend took me aside and asked whether I really swallowed those “ordinary, boring family man” quotes fed to me by Jackman. Couldn’t I see this was a classic cover story? Jackman has encountered such talk over the years, and always has a smiling riposte at the ready: “You really know you’ve made it when the gay rumours start.”
I tell Jackman that his Twitter tease convinced me he was about to come out, and he humours this with a raucous laugh. Then again, some people would consider his eventual announcement – that he is bringing his one-man song-and-dance show to Broadway in mid-October – to be tantamount to bounding from the closet, anyway. He laughs at that, too, which is very game of him. He even throws in a slap of the thigh: his thigh, that is, not mine. It all makes for a cheerful alternative to the usual “No comment.”
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