The power of imagination — onstage and off | Suki Hillier

**Elise Hu** (0:04)
You're listening to TED Talks Daily where we bring you new ideas to spark your curiosity every day. I'm your host, Elise Hu.
I can only imagine there's a particular kind of magic that happens in theater when someone steps into a role. And for a little while makes an audience believe they've become someone else. For 11-year-old actress Suki Hillier, that role was Matilda on London's West End.

**Suki Hillier** (0:28)
Somewhere in all those hours, something had changed.
I had stopped trying to find Matilda because I realized she'd been inside me the whole time. I didn't become her. I just finally let her out.

**Elise Hu** (0:41)
Listening to Suki, you can hear that particular joy of hearing a kid who's just let you into their own imaginary world. And not in a cutesy way. I've always been moved by moments when a child says something that makes you realize just how much they're noticing and feeling about the world around us. It made me wonder, as we grow up, what happens to our childlike sense of wonder?
In her talk, Suki takes us backstage into what it's like to play Matilda night after night, stepping into the role of a brave little girl who uses her intelligence, courage and imagination to take control of her own life. She explores what imagination can do when it's shared between an actor and an audience, which makes us think, what if finding your way into someone else's story isn't just a way to attend, but a way to listen closely and understand each other more deeply.

**Suki Hillier** (1:31)
The stage and life are not so different, because imagination isn't about escaping the real world. It is a way of building one.

**Elise Hu** (1:37)
After the talk, stick around. We'll hear from TED curator Chloe Shasha Brooks, who shares what led her to Suki and what Suki revealed for her about acting, empathy, and imagination. That's all coming up right after a short break.
And now, our TED Talk of the day.

**Suki Hillier** (2:01)
Hi, everyone. Today, I want to talk about imagination and theater. For the past year, I've been playing Matilda at the Cambridge Theatre in London's West End. The theater has 1,249 seats, and it is almost full every single night. Matilda is based on the book by Roald Dahl, and a lot of you probably already know the story. It is about a brave little girl who, even though she is bullied by her parents, uses her intelligence, courage and magic to take control of her own life. Well, I am that Matilda, alongside three other amazing girls. The four of us share the lead role, which is wonderful. But getting here was not exactly simple. I had to go through six rounds of auditions, twice. The first time was in the spring, 2024 I made it all the way to the final round, but then got a really bad cold. I couldn't sing. I couldn't perform, so I had to stop. Six months later, I had to go through the whole process all over again. And then came the hardest part, the waiting. Four whole weeks of not knowing. It felt like four years. But then finally one day, the call came. I'd been off of the role. I didn't know what to laugh or cry, so I did both at the same time.
Here's something I should tell you, though. Matilda and I go way back, long before auditions, long before any of this. I started watching a 1996 Matilda film when I was just three years old. I watched it over and over again. I would sit very still, staring at objects around the house, and trying to make them wobble. So when I finally got to step onto the real stage of the Cambridge Theatre, I could do things with my eyes. Well, after seven years of staring at cups.
Three months of intensive rehearsals followed. Every step, every line, every move. Again and again, until I didn't have to think about it anymore. The cast and coaches were all so patient with me. Honestly, they deserved medals.
But somewhere in all those hours, something had changed.
I had stopped trying to find Matilda, because I realized she'd been inside me the whole time. She was the girl I'd been dreaming about since I was three.
I didn't become her. I just finally let her out. The theatre itself is a world of its own. It has lights, painted walls, window frames, desks and swings. And there is a library where I can dive into my books and find the wonderful Mrs. Phelps waiting for me. There is my very kind Miss Honey.
And over there, sitting in front of the telly with my brother, are my rather obnoxious parents. And somewhere, lurking into the shadows, is the terrifying Miss Trunchbull.