Hugh Jackman

by Anne Hathaway
Jesse Dittmar—Redux

I’ve never stopped and analyzed why I love Hugh Jackman. For me, it’s like loving chocolate or puppies or rainbows: effortless. Yes, he can light up a room with a laugh or a smile; yes, he is a generous, consummate professional; and yes, he has that gift for entertaining that takes all your cares away. (See the leggy The Greatest Showman. That is both a reference and a recommendation.) Yes, yes, and yet it’s easy to forget that why we allow ourselves the pleasure of going on visual and aural journeys with him is his mammoth, undeniable talent. In other words, he is so likable, sometimes we overlook that he is among the finest, most committed actors of his generation. All that, and I have personally discovered him to be genuinely, truly, deeply egoless. And delicious, cuddly and magical (chocolate, puppies, rainbows). I’m back where I started; analysis isn’t helping. Let’s just marvel at this wonder and be grateful we snagged a ticket.

Hathaway is an Oscar-winning actor

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