Hugh Jackman has played superheroes, sang his heart out on Broadway, and owned red carpets for decades. But long before the fame, the awards, and the abs, the 57-year-old icon had a moment that nearly broke him. It happened live on stage, in front of a packed crowd. And yes, it involved pee.

Jackman recently told the full story on "The Howard Stern Show," and he did not hold back.

The “X-Men” star did not tease the story. He dropped it casually, like it was no big deal. That made it hit harder. He described peeing his pants mid-performance as if he were talking about missing a bus.

Hugh / IG / The incident happened in the mid-1990s. Jackman was still early in his career, hungry and focused. He was playing Gaston in an Australian stage run of "Beauty and the Beast."

Offstage, he had been dealing with headaches. A naturopath gave him advice that sounded harmless. Drink more water. Jackman took it seriously. Too seriously. Before one show, he drank two full gallons.

The trouble hit fast. Gaston’s opening song is loud, proud, and physical. Jackman had to lift Belle and parade her across the stage. The crowd was around 1,500 people.

As he lifted her, his body gave up. He felt it happen. “As I picked Belle up, a little bit of piss came out,” Jackman said. To add yet another twist, he was wearing bright red tights. There was nowhere to hide.

Then came the worst part. The song builds to a big note. A high F sharp. The kind that defines the moment. Jackman knew he had seconds to decide. “I either sing it and piss my pants, or I don’t sing it and humiliate myself,” the “Prisoners” star says.

Jackman powered through, but his body language changed. He stopped singing lines and started marching instead. The actress playing Belle noticed right away.

She leaned in and whispered, “What’s going on?” Jackman could not answer. He just kept moving, trying to survive the scene and the shame at the same time.

A False Sense of Relief

Hugh / IG / When the song ended, Jackman avoided the spotlight. He turned upstage instead of bowing. He did not see any dark patch on his tights.

For a moment, he relaxed. Jakman even joked to himself. He thought maybe the damage was hidden. Maybe only his boots had suffered. He believed he had escaped.

That feeling lasted about three minutes! As he walked offstage, he saw his dresser staring straight at his crotch.

Jackman looked down. The tights were soaked. The moisture had finally pushed through. The truth was out. His dresser’s face said it all. The secret was over.

Most people would quit. Jackman did not. He changed, cleaned up, and went back out. The show had to go on, and he made sure it did. That night burned into his memory. Not because of the laughter or the shock. Because he learned something brutal and useful about himself as a performer.

Today, Jackman tells the story with pride. Not embarrassment. He sees it as a turning point. A moment that stripped away fear.

“Nothing can embarrass you after that,” the sar jibed on the show. Once you survive the worst, everything else feels lighter. The pressure fades, and confidence grows.