Jon Hamm Finds His Way Back to the Hilltop

As we climbed the dusty path winding through Griffith Park, Jon Hamm tilted his head upward, his gaze following a rugged ridge that stretched out to our left. From our vantage point, the horizon was unmarred — no modernist mansions or phone towers disrupted the line of sight. Hamm gestured subtly toward a lone figure seated quietly at the edge.

“See that guy up there?” he asked. I followed his eyes. The man could have been meditating, or maybe, lost in thought — like a real-life Don Draper sketching the blueprint for a new Coca-Cola pitch.

For Hamm, the solitary silhouette sparked a memory. It took him back to 2017, not long after he had moved into a home nestled in the Hollywood Hills. His star-making role as Don Draper in AMC’s acclaimed “Mad Men” had ended two years earlier. So had an 18-year relationship. That chapter, both personally and professionally, had closed — and it wasn’t an easy one to follow.

“I was newly single,” Hamm recalled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “I just thought, I need to focus on myself again.” So he began taking that same trail regularly, climbing to the ridge and circling back toward his home, often rehearsing lines as he walked — rebuilding routine, rediscovering balance.

In time, he found a sense of rhythm in his new life. He began to adjust — to the new neighborhood, the solitude, and the unfamiliar quiet after years of intensity. Slowly, a new chapter began to unfold.

We met on a bright February afternoon, joined by his rescue dog Murphy, to talk as we hiked. Hamm was preparing for the release of “Your Friends & Neighbors,” an Apple TV+ drama marking his return as a television lead — his first major series role since Draper. The character of Don Draper, after all, wasn’t just iconic; it became one of the pillars of modern prestige TV, placing Hamm among the greats of the medium’s golden age.

For years after “Mad Men” wrapped, Hamm had tried — in subtle and not-so-subtle ways — to distance himself from Draper’s shadow. The transition wasn’t guaranteed to be smooth. The media circled with speculative headlines: “What’s Next for Jon Hamm?”, “Escaping Don Draper,” “Jon Hamm’s Second Act.”

“No matter how big or groundbreaking or personally defining something is,” Hamm reflected, “the second it’s over, the world turns and asks, ‘Alright, what now?’”

What followed was a mix of low-key guest roles, supporting parts, and movie appearances with varied reception. For a while, his career felt less like a second act and more like a holding pattern — one that drew fewer headlines, less attention.

But now, it’s clear Hamm is stepping into a new phase — a third act. This one feels more confident, more comfortable. He’s appeared in high-profile series like “Fargo,” “Landman,” and “The Morning Show.” He introduced the Kansas City Chiefs at Super Bowl LIX. He’s returning to host “Saturday Night Live” for the first time in 15 years. In short: Jon Hamm is back in full view.

What’s different this time is how freely he’s playing with his old image. Last year, he and former co-star John Slattery parodied “Mad Men” in the comedy “Unfrosted,” where their characters hilariously brainstorm rebranding Pop-Tarts. In “Your Friends & Neighbors,” he channels some of that Draper charisma as Andrew Cooper, a suave hedge fund manager. But Cooper, Hamm says, is the inverse of Draper.

“Don was the one doing the selling,” he explained. “Coop’s the guy doing the buying.”

The series itself is more than a character showcase — it’s a darkly comedic caper and a critique of consumer excess. Hamm, who also executive produces the show, seems keen on both evoking and deconstructing his earlier persona.

But perhaps the most profound evolution in this stage of his life is not on screen. It’s personal. Hamm is now married — a fact that seems to have grounded him. He speaks openly about feeling more settled, more accepting of himself and his past. That sense of inner peace, he says, has only emerged in recent years.

Still, some fans and observers can’t help but project the brooding mystique of Don Draper onto Hamm. There’s something about him — more than his looks — that encourages that fantasy. Jennifer Aniston, who stars opposite him in “The Morning Show,” once said he seemed “sprinkled with fairy dust.” Noah Hawley, creator of “Fargo,” described Hamm as possessing “a mystery in what you can’t quite see” — a presence that keeps audiences coming back.

And yet, behind all those layers, there’s a simpler version of Hamm. Maybe what’s beneath that classically handsome, square-jawed exterior is just a guy from St. Louis — someone who’s faced loss, taken hits, and kept going. Someone who loves his wife. And his dog. Could we imagine Jon Hamm, truly content?

If you ever find yourself taking a walk with him, expect people to ask about it. Friends, coworkers, even strangers want to know what he’s like. One surprisingly common question: Was he wearing shorts? (Yes, he was. Athletic ones, loose and casual.)

There’s no shortage of attractive actors in Hollywood. But Hamm has a kind of timeless masculinity — old-school, confident, but softened by humor and humility. He wears both cowboy hats and reading glasses with the same credibility.

“You can go deep with Jon — we’ve cried together, in the best way,” said Aniston. “He’s an incredible communicator. A really great listener.”

Amanda Peet, who plays Hamm’s ex-wife in the new series, said even her husband, David Benioff of “Game of Thrones” fame, wasn’t immune to Hamm’s disarming charm. “He never gets jealous,” she said. “But after the fourth person asked him how he felt about me working with Jon Hamm, he started to go, ‘Wait a second…’”

Some might wish Hamm were a jerk — it might make things easier to process. But he’s not. He adores Murphy, his 85-pound bulldog mix, and frequently shares photos of him — on set, off set, anytime. He even gives Murphy a voice, narrating his thoughts mid-conversation: “This is good dirt, guys,” Hamm says in a gruff, goofy tone. “Have you tried this dirt?”

Peet joked, “It’s right on the line between charming and psychotic.”

Hamm’s personality — warm, curious, occasionally dorky — surfaces in the way he speaks, too. He calls you “buddy.” He says things like “holy cow” and “cool beans.” Matthew Weiner, creator of “Mad Men,” called him both artistic and surprisingly down-to-earth: “He wants people to see him as a nerd. And he is nerdy. But also, a jock.”

There are deeper reasons behind the mystique. Hamm’s past is marked by real loss — his mother died when he was just 10, his father at 20. He had to navigate life largely on his own. “I was a late bloomer in every sense,” he said. “For a long time, I was just surviving.” Only in recent decades, he said, has he truly felt like he’s living.

He started working young — by 16, he held various jobs, including teaching after college — and at 24, he moved to Los Angeles with little but determination. “If you wanted something, you got a [expletive] job and went out to get it.”

That drive, said longtime friend Robert Lawson, was always there. “He was smart, magnetic — everyone’s parents loved him,” Lawson said. After Hamm’s father passed, Lawson’s parents let him live in their basement after college. (They later received a shout-out in Hamm’s Emmy acceptance speech.)

Success with “Mad Men” didn’t come until his mid-30s. And while it brought fame, it also brought pressure. Paparazzi camped outside his home. Public interest in his personal life intensified. In 2015, after the show’s end, his personal challenges came to light — the breakup with Jennifer Westfeldt, a stint in rehab, and renewed attention to an old college hazing incident.

“There’s no shortcut through tough times,” he said. “You can ignore things, but they don’t go away. You have to face them, step by step.”

Since then, Hamm has made a conscious effort not to be boxed in. He turned down roles that felt too familiar. He avoided over-associating with “Mad Men” alumni. He explored new genres — thrillers like “Beirut,” comedies like “30 Rock” and “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and indie projects like “Confess, Fletch.”

Now, at 54, Jon Hamm seems more himself than ever — fully in command of his career, no longer chasing a new identity, but shaping one on his own terms.