OK. What has even happened to Jonathan Groff?
It’s hard to know, exactly, but something definitely did. Like, maybe he got a hit TV show. Or grew up. Or rode a one-way rocket ride to awesomeness. Because during his short but mesmerizingly sweet Joe’s Pub set last night, the world saw a whole new Jonathan. And he’s badass. He still wears really stupid footwear, but he’s badass.
He’s also hot as hell, which we knew already. But it has not exactly been Jonathan’s tendency to let his sexy light shine—not when he’s just being Jonathan, anyway. The last time we saw Jonathan in this type of setting, he was smiling his sweet smile and letting Lea Michele do all the talking at True Colors Cabaret. It was lovely. But it wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as the Jonanthan we met last night.
This Jonathan Groff was so foxy that he almost melted the entire building to the ground. Joe’s Pub has never hosted so many sweaty people at once. And it wasn’t just apparent in the ribcage-to-shoulder splotch on Groff’s nipple-bearing t-shirt either. The audience was clearly feeling it too—Mr. Fahrenheit indeed.
He sang that song—Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me”—along with covers of Stevie Wonder and Alicia Keys songs. And Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” which up until this moment has only been famous for its epic 80s music video that involves a model doing splits on the hood of a car. The setlist careened all over the place, but it held together mostly because Groff sang everything really well—with such pretty phrasing and actorly intensity. And as a bonus he was, you know, in tune.
But Groff’s show was more than just a chance for us to recognize that he’s sexy and talented. It was a chance for him to realize that he’s sexy and talented, too, even when he was onstage all by himself. And realize it he has. His eyelids drooped and his hips moved. He prowled the stage like panther, caressed his microphone stand with a sensuality heretofore unseen in any of his performances (including those simulating actual sex), and sang to the men he loved, songwriting convention be damned. He was truly a star. Granted, he’s still not above the occasional bashful glance at the floor, but he wouldn’t be our Jonathan without that, now would he.
Photo: The Craptacular