One of the most enjoyable things about many works of art is the opportunity to revisit them, often multiple times.

Music in particular is made for repetition, as radio throughout the past 75 years or so has shown. We like hearing our favorite songs over and over. We like them so much that we're willing to purchase them and play them over and over again in our homes.

With new formats like Blu-Ray and HD DVD battling for space on retailers' shelves, it's hard to believe that as recently as 30 or 35 years ago, movies were not something people owned. If you wanted to see some obscure film, you had to get involved in a film society.

I remember sitting in a film society meeting in 1982 or 1983, all but begging the group to bring in "The Magic Christian," I so desperately wished to see it. Many others at the meeting had seen the film already and objected to the idea, primarily because of the final scene.

Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr, as father and adopted son, have spent the film playing elaborate practical jokes on others, all making the point that every person can be bribed. In the last scene, they fill an adult-sized swimming pool with animal fecal matter and throw thousands of pounds in British currency in, watching as suit-bedecked businessmen dive into the pool in a cash grab.

Good clean family fun. Wonder why they didn't want to see it again?

The point is, I no longer have to wait for a pay cable network to show it, as I did when I finally saw it a few years after that fateful meeting. I just sent back a copy of the DVD that I viewed after it was sent to me in the mail thanks to blockbuster.com.

Was the film better or worse the second time around? It was about the same, honestly. The true enjoyment in this case was the chance to see it again and make that judgment. (Well, that and seeing pre-"Monty Python" appearances by John Cleese and Graham Chapman, and Yul Brynner as a transvestite.)

Some art only needs to be seen once, or one viewing is all a person can bear. Those works are different for each person, of course. For me, a couple of films that came out pretty close to one another were stunning to see in theaters, but the emotions involved were so raw and uncomfortable that I'll stick with my memories of "Monster's Ball" and "In the Bedroom."

(I still say Marisa Tomei was more deserving of the best supporting actress Oscar that year that Jennifer Connelly in "A Beautiful Mind.")

Other works need to be seen multiple times to fully appreciate their depth, even if one pass seems to be enough. More than two weeks after purchasing the third-season DVD set of "The Office," I have yet to get to the final DVD in the four-disc package.

The extras are one thing - in some episodes, there's practically the equivalent of another show of outtakes and removed subplots. But even more impressive is how there's always something going on in the background or on the sides of the main action. Not since "Seinfeld" has repeated viewing been so profitable.

This summer, I became the last person of practically everyone I know to see the Chicago-based stage production of "Wicked." A big fan of "The Wizard of Oz," I was enraptured by the idea of the musical, which tells the story behind the story of the Wicked Witch of the West, and makes the argument the story in the film tells only one side of the wicked witch's story.

The musical is marginally based on the Gregory Maguire "alternate history" book "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West." "Marginally based" in that it shares some characters' names and locations, and that's about it.

The musical is much brighter than the book, which is depressing, ends poorly for the principal character and meanders for much of the middle half. (A co-worker compared reading that stretch to some of the ponderous portions of "The Lord of the Rings," finding himself telling Maguire, "Get out of the (metaphorical) woods, already."

At least that's what I thought after first seeing the musical.

Interestingly enough, after seeing the musical a second time, both the play AND the book gained more depth than I'd originally thought they had. The musical wasn't as sunshiny, and the book didn't seem quite as depressing.

Not that I'm tempted to read the book again. But that's the point. The book is there if I do decide to peruse it again (although I doubt I will), and the play appears to be one that will be around long enough for further repeat viewings, and further in-depth interpretation.

I've been accused of making viewing and consuming art "a lot of work." There's nothing wrong with just taking something on its surface and enjoying it (or not) for what it is.

But often the arts experience can be much more rewarding if a search for depth is conducted. That's what makes those multiple viewings an ultimate pleasure.

Tim Cain can be reached at timcain@herald-review.com or 421-6908.