My mother, the actress Carrie Cohen, once had a blazing argument with Anthony Hopkins0. He was saying that he preferred appearing in Hollywood blockbusters compared to appearing on the stage because nothing was more boring than playing Hamlet for the 100th time.
My mother's contention was that he was talking rubbish. The joy of repeated performance is finding new and interesting ways to bring the character to life. Even after a hundred performances, you will still be able to discover exciting and subtle nuances.
My mother, of course, was right1.
I was at EuroBSDCon a few months ago giving a talk I'd given several times before. As I was rehearsing it, I felt the comforting familiarity of an old friend. I knew when to pause, where to place the emphasis, how to build to a crescendo. This was going to be delightfully boring for me.
And then I got on stage.
I know my script. True, I occasionally glance at the speaker notes, but I don't rely on it. This frees me. My mind can wander just a little bit and explore what I'm saying.
My brain makes connections that were previously hidden from me. Exciting new ways to express myself spring forth from my mouth. I'm not consciously aware of the joke that I make until the laughter has subsided. I gradually discover a new turn of phrase. The awkward segue suddenly resolves itself. The talk that I'm giving is not the same as the one I planned; it is better. You can rehearse a thousand times, but there's something about having an audience which helps you discover what it is you want to say.
There is nothing like live performance to help you discover yourself.