Hugh Jackman: Back on Broadway

Hugh Jackman's not really a great singer, and he's not really a fantastic dancer, so it's a little confusing that his show Back on Broadway is so stupidly fantastic. There's something about him that just gives him the ability to put material over even when it shouldn't work. A cheesy cover of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" set to images of the outback and with two didgeridoos should be saccharine enough to make my teeth itch. His sort of sexless sexiness is so bland that it shouldn't even register, but there's something appealing even in its crisp safeness. And while the show is just covers of stuff he's done before and tributes to the most obvious of notions (I love my wife, New York's awesome, my dad really loved me), it's all strangely, wonderfully compelling in his hands. He's like the world's most charming used salesman. He may not have anything great to sell, but you're not leaving the lot empty-handed.

And if that all sounds bitchy, I don't mean it to. Because truly, Hugh Jackman: Back on Broadway, is a stupidly good time. Because no matter his specific limitations in particular areas, Jackman is a capital Entertainer. And his joy at bringing his audience along for the ride is, in fact, pretty infectious. He's got that sort of Tinkerbell/Lady Gaga I'll-live-if-you-applaud quality. Some of the show is obvious and silly, but at no point is the man coasting, and I respect the crap out of that.

The banter between the songs was up-to-the-minute fresh. Whether joking about Rick Perry's debate gaffe the night before, bringing out the four dancers having their first opening night on Broadway that night, or engaging a member of the audience in a genuinely amusing back and forth, Jackman was at his best on his toes. It's that charisma and relatable quality that set him apart.

There were musical highlights, certainly. I loved his version of "Tenterfield Saddler," and his "Soliloquy" from Carousel was the best showcase for his particular vocal qualities. A big movie musical medley was bubbly and fun and engaging, but not as much so as his Act 2 entrance decked out in gold lame to do a little Peter Allen tribute. Still, though, if it weren't for his peculiar blend of star quality and humility (real or imagined), none of it would register as big as it does. Bottom line: he just always looks so fucking happy. So yeah...that's infectious. There's no depth to the show, but sometimes a night of candy coated entertainment is just fine too.