A good monologue is like a mini-story. There’s a narrative arc and often a glimpse of character transformation, however slight. Emotion is key, and many of the best monologues convey more than one. Some feature surprising contrasts, such as starting with amusement and ending with rage, or vice versa. If you’re preparing a monologue for an upcoming audition, here’s what to consider to help you find the right one.
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If you’re auditioning for drama school, then you’ll likely be provided with specific requirements. For example, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (RADA) asks applicants to prepare both a classical and a contemporary monologue – and it has to be from a play rather than film or television. It also provides a range of guidelines, like using your natural speaking voice when performing the classical piece and avoiding characters who are ‘mad, drunk, or wildly out of control’ since ‘these are very difficult’.
If you have free rein to pick whatever you like – for a film or theatre audition, for example – it’s helpful to think about not only the character but also the director’s style. If it’s restrained and naturalistic, then aim for a piece that reflects that. Likewise, if the director tends to make comedies, then it makes sense to pick a piece that showcases your ability to capture humour.
It might be tempting to pick a passage that’s memorable and ‘big’, but this could mean setting an unrealistically high bar for yourself. If your chosen monologue was originally acted by Meryl Streep or Viola Davis, performing it yourself is the acting equivalent of a singer choosing a Whitney Houston number for her X Factor audition. The director or panel will naturally draw comparisons between your performance and theirs.
Personal fit
What’s more, just because a monologue is good doesn’t mean it’s right for you personally. To best showcase your skills as an actor, choose a character and a piece that fits your age, accent, physical type, and style. For example, don’t deliver a monologue written for an 80-year-old woman if you’re in your twenties. And if you’re naturally funny or neurotic or commanding, then select a character that shares those traits. Find a speech you connect with to ensure a more authentic performance. For example, if you grew up in an affluent London suburb, then a monologue about hardship in America’s Deep South might not ring true.
Unless the audition states otherwise, keep it short and sweet. A tight, well-acted one minute – or even 30 seconds – is better than a rambling five. And though the selected monologue must stand alone, make sure you’ve also read or watched the whole work it’s from so you understand its context within the story and the overall arc of that character.
For inspiration, here are nine memorable female monologues from theatre, television, and film.
Mabel Chiltern, An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde
This witty, joyful monologue is taken from Wilde’s social satire An Ideal Husband. Mabel (who was played by Minnie Driver in the 1999 film version) is described as having ‘the fascinating tyranny of youth, and the astonishing courage of innocence’. Though she’s only a supporting role in the play, she carries real ‘main character’ energy. Mabel addresses this monologue to her sister-in-law around halfway through the play, and what makes it particularly entertaining is the surprising, comic twist at the end.
“Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio going on. I didn't dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately, I don't know what bimetallism means. And I don't believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a manner that attracts some attention.”
Juliet, Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet, arguably the most famous love story of all time, contains a number of monologues you could choose from. What works well in this one from Act 2, Scene 5 is that it’s infused with a sense of urgency and tension. At this point in the play, Juliet is waiting anxiously for her nurse to return from speaking with Romeo to arrange their secret wedding.
“The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promis’d to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him – that’s not so.
O, she is lame! Love’s heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun’s beams
Driving back shadows over louring hills;
Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw Love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day’s journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
She would be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me.
But old folks – many feign as they were dead
Unwieldy, slow, heavy, and pale as lead.
O God, she comes.”
Astrid, Eight by Ella Hickson
If you prefer something edgier and modern, this piece from one of eight self-contained monologues (first performed at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2008) is a good choice. It begins with the character Astrid, who is having an affair, climbing into bed alongside her sleeping husband. Unable to sleep, she talks to the audience. Layered and dark, the piece offers the opportunity to express a range of complex emotions. Despite the subject matter, it also includes blackly comic moments, like Astrid responding to her husband’s farts.
“People talk about guilt as if it's an instinct. That the second you do something wrong, you feel guilty. I don't; what I'm feeling is power. You always join the story at the bit where they're sorry, when they're desperately begging for forgiveness. But there's something before that, there's now. In the space after the act and before the consequences, when you've got away with it; when you're walking out of an unknown door, back down unknown streets and it's still thumping in you – dawn's breaking, dew's settling and you're skipping back home, flying on thrill of it, you can taste it. Even back here, the quiet click of the door, the tiptoe in – the alcohol's wearing off too quickly, I want it back – our bed and all the stuff that makes up life, our life – and – I don't feel like a traitor; I can lie here whilst another man's saliva dries off my lips and I can remember another man's face bearing over me – and I enjoy it, I enjoy that all this seems new again. His alarm's going off in ten minutes. He'll roll over and grunt, curl himself round me like a monkey with its bloody mum. Just like every morning. He won't notice that anything's different – he won’t see that I have mascara down my face or that my hair is wet, because I've been running in the rain to get back before he wakes up, he won’t notice that I haven't been here, that I'm drunk, no – for him, I became invisible a long time ago.
That's not even snoring is it? Listen? It's definitely more aggravating than breathing, but it doesn't quite have the conviction of a snore. Nope…just a slow dribble of air, as if it was engineered to be as aggravating as humanly possible; sort of like a tiny pony having a tantrum. He sniffles slightly.
Oop – oh that's nice isn't it, a little wind from the baby. Having been with someone else, it's like I've left the room for the first time in years, and come back in and realised…this is the man that I once thought I might marry.”
Shiv, Succession
This monologue from Season 4, Episode 9 takes place at the funeral of media mogul and patriarch Logan Roy. His only daughter, Shiv, portrayed by Sarah Snook, steps in to deliver a eulogy after her brother Roman is too overcome with emotion to carry on. Because of that, it’s a monologue that contains some interesting contrasts. It’s faltering (because of her lack of preparation) but also confident (as befitting her character). And as it progresses, Shiv grapples with the many conflicting emotions she has towards her bullying, emotionally inaccessible father.
Fleabag, Fleabag
In Season 2, Episode 5, Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character delivers this heartbreaking monologue in the confession booth to the ‘hot priest’ she’s fallen in love with. Filled with despair and longing, it’s a monologue that gives you the chance to prove you can really move an audience.
Fiona, Shameless
A lifetime of repressed rage and pain explodes in this scene from Season 7, Episode 12, between Fiona and her father. It includes a minute-long monologue in which Emmy Rossum’s Fiona expresses years of resentment at having to parent the whole family after their mother Monica deserted them.
Queen, Queen and Slim
As this monologue – taken from a 2019 film about a young couple who go on the run after killing a police officer – shows, you don’t always have to be loud and dramatic to make an impression. In just under a minute, Jodie Turner-Smith’s Queen delivers an understated but powerful monologue about what she wants from love.
Amy, Gone Girl
Rosamund Pike’s Amy tries to frame her husband for her murder in an elaborate plan. When it’s eventually revealed that she’s not, in fact, dead, this transcendent ‘cool girl’ monologue partly explains her twisted reasoning. It’s bitter, frigid, and insightful about the dynamics between men and women.
Lady Bird
A powerful or poignant audition monologue doesn’t have to be about romantic love. Sometimes it can be about the relationships we have with our parents, siblings, or friends, like this one written by Barbie writer-director Greta Gerwig for her 2018 film Lady Bird. The titular character, portrayed by Saoirse Ronan, has a fractious relationship with her mother. But towards the end of the film, she calls home in an attempt to reconnect. And, when neither of her parents picks up, Lady Bird leaves them this voicemail monologue.