Monologues

[Elvis_Christ]

:D Thought there'd be lots of Tarantino in this thread.

My favorite one recentley is from Palindromes:

Mark Wiener: People always end up the way they started out. No one ever changes. They think they do but they don't. If you're the depressed type now that's the way you'll always be. If you're the mindless happy type now, that's the way you'll be when you grow up. You might lose some weight, your face may clear up, get a body tan, breast enlargement, a sex change, it makes no difference. Essentially, from in front, from behind. Whether you're 13 or 50, you will always be the same.
Aviva Victor: Are you the same?
Mark Wiener: Yeah.
Aviva Victor: Are you glad you're the same?
Mark Wiener: It doesn't matter if I'm glad. There's no freewill. I mean, I have no choice but to chose what I choose, to do as I do, to live as I live. Ultimately, we're all just robots programmed abritrarily by nature's genetic code
Aviva Victor: Isn't there any hope?
Mark Wiener: For what? We hope or despair because of the way we've been programmed. Genes and randomness, that's all there is and none of it matters.
Aviva Victor: Does that mean you're never going get married and have children?
Mark Wiener: I have no anent desire to get married or have kids. But that's beyond my control. Really, it makes no difference. Since the planet's fast running out of natural resources and we won't make it into the next century.
Aviva Victor: What if you're wrong? What if there is a God?
Mark Wiener: That makes me feel better.

[Haunted]

Originally Posted by The_Return

Hey

I have to bring a monologue to a class I have tonight, just wondered what some of your favourite monologues were?

I have a couple in mind, but am still open to suggestions. The instructor said we could get them from movies, books, plays - where ever. He said they didnt have to be really long or anything, between like 30 secinds and a couple minutes.

Are you at a university/college, because if not, I really wouldn't recommend these, as cool and brilliant as they are. You know how the school systems are. You'll end up getting eye-balled and possibly shrieked at by your insanely liberal assed teachers who think you're trying to encite violence, earning a trip to the guidance counselor... Or maybe all of this just happens in the South, not sure.

We couldn't even get permission to do scenes from Monty Python, as they were scene as too risque.

It's a sad world when drama students can't attempt the work of some very powerful artists.

The great monolouge from Henry V (Shakespeare) would be great, but who wants to do that anymore. You know, because the monolouge from Dr. Strangelove is awesom and completely thought provoaking for this age, but you know how the assholes in charge think: If you question, you're a subversive. Not saying that you picked a monolouge with those intentions, but an idiot will put words in your mouth any chance it gets.

Maybe a very creatively (diabolicaly under their nose and over their head) worked medly would work.

I don't know. It's tricky. Some thesbians:D :D and I got into some trouble back our day.

[ShankS]

I am Proximo! I shall be closer to you for the next few days, which will be the last of your miserable lives, than that bitch of a mother who first brought you screaming into this world! I did not pay good money for your company. I paid it so that I might profit from your death. And just as your mother was there at your beginning, I shall be there at your end. And when you die - and die you shall - your transition will be to the sound of... [claps his hands]

Gladiators... I salute you.

[ShankS]

They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. All but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I'm still awake. Transporting me with civilians. Sounded like 40, 40-plus. Heard an Arab voice. Some hoodoo holy man, probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route? I smelt a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type. Free settlers. And they only take the back roads. And here's my real problem. Mr. Johns... the blue-eyed devil. Planning on taking me back to slam... only this time he picked a ghost lane. A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong...

[ShankS]

Dear Clarice, I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming. My own never bothered me except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated, but you may lack perspective. In our discussions down in the dungeon it was apparent to me that your father, the dead night watchman, figures largely in your value system. I think your success in putting an end to Jame Gumb's career as a couturier pleased you most because you could imagine your father being pleased. But now, alas, you're in bad odour with the FBI. Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace? Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure; a sorry, petty end of a promising career? What is worst about this humiliation Clarice? Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy? Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe they were indeed just good old trailer camp tornado bait white trash and that perhaps you are too? By the way I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website that I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal and elevated to the more prestigious 10 Most Wanted list. Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case? If so, goody goody, cause I need to come out of retirement and return to public life. I imagine you sitting in a dark basement room bent over papers and computer screens. Is that accurate? Please tell me truly, Special Agent Starling. Regards, your old pal Hannibal Lecter, M.D. P.S. Clearly this new assignment is not your choice rather I suppose it is a part of the bargain but you accepted it Clarice. Your job is to craft my doom. So I am not sure how well I should wish you but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Tata, H.

[ShankS]

I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face and, the blackest eyes... the *devil's* eyes! I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil!