Contemporary Monologues to Impress in an Audition

Contemporary means any play written after the beginning of the 20th century. Contemporary monologues are often written in what we’d consider a more colloquial, conversational style, compared to the heightened or poetic language of some classical pieces. Unsurprisingly, contemporary monologues often deal with topics and concerns that are more culturally relatable, making them appealing to a present-day audience.

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There’s no shortage of great present-day monologues out there. The main challenge is unearthing the right speeches to show off your strengths and convey the sorts of emotions casting directors might want to see brought to a role. Unless you’ve been given a specific brief, choose monologues that resonate with you and give you room to be creative, not just ones that suit your casting. 

In need of inspiration? Here are 11 of the best contemporary monologues to get you started. 

People, Places and Things by Duncan Macmillan (2015)

Act 2, Scene 9
Character: Emma

I find reality pretty difficult. I find the business of getting out of bed and getting on with the day really hard. I find picking up my phone to be a mammoth fucking struggle. The number on my inbox. The friends who won’t see me anymore. The food pictures and porn videos, the bombings and beheadings, the moral ambivalence you have to have to just be able to carry on with your day. I find the knowledge that we’re all just atoms and one day will just stop and be dirt in the ground, I find that overwhelmingly disappointing. And I wish I could feel otherwise. I wish I could be like you. Or my mother. To feel that some things are predetermined and meaningful and that we’re somewhere on a track between the start and finish lines. But I can’t because I care about what’s true, what’s actually verifiably true. You’re able to forfeit rationality for a comforting untruth so how are you supposed to help me? You’re looking at the world through such a tight filter you’re barely living in it. You’re barely alive.

[Redacted]

Drugs and alcohol have never let me down. They have always loved me. There are substances I can put into my bloodstream that make the world perfect. That is the only absolute truth in the universe.

I am being difficult because you want to take it away from me. So. Sorry. 

Why choose it?
People, Places and Things debuted to rave reviews at the National Theatre back in 2015, and its second West End revival, almost 10 years on in 2024, proved just as well received. It’s a reminder of just how hard-hitting and relevant its exploration of addiction is. 

Emma is being treated for drug and alcohol addiction, and this is the first time she starts to open up to her therapist. The tension between her inner vulnerability and her attempts to keep her tough mask in place makes this speech especially impactful, and a great chance for an actor to show mastery of a character’s inner and outer worlds. 

Nothing Compares to You, Bryony Lavery (1995)

Scene 9
Character: Joy

Jesus! Well, it seems I won’t be invited back to her house for a while. Someone was sick in her Weeping Fig and I’m Prime Suspect One. I denied it. I said I was sick in your bidet. I was sick on your shoes. I was sick in my own Weeping Fig but I swear on my mother’s grave that the contents of my stomach stayed in situ in your sodding Victorian-style conservatory! She’s not having any of it. She made mention of cigarette butts in the avocado dip. That was me. She claims I didn’t arrive in my car. I was with someone who didn’t speak any language anybody could put a finger on but bowed and stroked me a lot with his many ringed hands! Who the sweet Jesus was that?

I’m a bit of a mess, me.

Why choose it?
The play takes place in the aftermath of a tragic accident and tackles themes of death, betrayal, loneliness and loss with a dose of dark humour. Joy’s speech captures that dark humour. There’s plenty of room for laughs, but the final line in particular suggests an undertone of sadness. The balancing of both is a great opportunity for an actor to show light and shade in one short speech. 

Noises Off, Michael Frayn (1982) 

Act 1, Scene 1
Character: Dotty 

It’s no good, you going on. I can’t open sardines and answer the phone. I’ve only got one pair of feet. Hello…. Yes, but there’s no one here, love…. No, Mr. Brent’s not here…He lives here, yes, but he don’t live here now because he lives in Spain… Mr. Philip Brent, that’s right…. The one who writes the plays, that’s him, only now he writes them in Spain… No, she’s in Spain, too, they’re all in Spain, there’s no one here… Am I in Spain? No, I’m not in Spain, dear. I look after the house for him, but I go home at one o’clock on Wednesday, only I’ve got a nice plate of sardines to put my feet up with, because it’s the royal what’s-it’s called on the telly — the royal you know — where’s the paper, then? And if it’s to do with letting the house then you’ll have to ring the house-agents, because they’re the agents for the house…. Squire, Squire, Hackham and who’s the other one…? No, they’re not in Spain, they’re next to the phone in the study. Squire, Squire, Hackham, and hold on, I’ll go and look. Always the same, isn’t it. Soon as you take the weight off your feet, down it all comes on your head.

Why choose it? 
This play-within-a-play from Frayn’s superb farce is a fun format for actors, giving them the chance to play a character who is in character – albeit quite badly, as it eventually descends into chaos. In this opening monologue, Dotty is playing Mrs Clackett the housekeeper, and the self-referential nature of the speech and muddled lines set the actor up nicely for some playful laughs. 

Chicago, Bob Fosse and Fred Ebb (1975) 

Scene 3 
Character: Velma Kelly

My sister, Veronica, and I had this double act and my husband, Charlie, travelled around with us. Now for the last number in our act, we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row, one, two, three, four, five... Splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops, one right after the other. Well, this one night before the show we are in hotel Cicero, the three of us, sittin' up in a hotel room, boozin' and havin' a few laughs and we ran out of ice, so I went out to get some. I come back, open the door. And there's Veronica and Charlie doing Number Seventeen – the spread eagle. Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out. I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead.

Why choose it? 
This punchy monologue leads up to a dramatic ending, when it’s revealed that Velma has murdered her husband and sister. The monologue takes place within a musical number interspersed with monologues from women on death row, and the staccato rhythm of the speech fits with the song. There’s a mischievous, faux innocence to the ending that offers clues about Velma’s character. Her sharp-edged, defiant pursuit of fame, fortune and acquittal make this an exciting monologue to tackle. 

Lungs, Duncan Macmillan (2011) 

Scene 1
Character: W

Look, alright, listen, you have to understand alright, I'm thinking out loud here so please just let me talk just let me think it through out loud please alright don't just jump in if I say something wrong or stupid just let me think okay because I've always wanted alright and I’m talking in the abstract I've always wanted I've always had a sense or an idea of myself always defined myself okay as a person who would, that my purpose in life that my function on this planet would be to and not that I ever thought about it like that it's only now because you're asking or not asking but mentioning, starting the conversation only because of that that I'm now even thinking about it but it's always sort of been a given for me an assumption ever since I was a little girl playing with dolls I mean long long long before I met you, it's never been what I guess it should be which is a a a a a a an extension of an expression of you know, fucking love or whatever, a coming together of two people it's always been this alright and this sounds stupid and naive but it's always been an image, I guess, of myself with a bump and glowing in that motherly or pushing a pram or a cot with a mobile above it or singing to it reading Beatrix Potter or Dr Seus, I don't care, never cared about it being a boy or girl just small and soft and adorable and with that milky head smell and the tiny socks and giggles and yes vomit even it's all part of it, looking after it, caring for it that's I think that's the impulse and there's always been a father in the picture but sort of a blurry background generic man, I'm sorry, it's just this picture of my life I've always had since I was able to think and I've never ever questioned it. Never.  

Why choose it?
This unpunctuated stream of consciousness is an outpouring of the character’s inner world. She’s ‘thinking out loud’, driven by her need for the listener to understand her from the very first line. It’s a great chance to demonstrate a good grasp of objective and show off your ability to make each thought feel spontaneous. 

Fleabag, Phoebe Waller-Bridge (2019)

Series 2, Episode 5 
Character: Fleabag

I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. No, I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like. What to hate. What to rage about. What to listen to. What band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about. What not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to…tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong. And I know that’s why people want someone like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it. You just tell them what to do and what they’ll get out at the end of it, even though I don’t believe your bullshit and I know that scientifically nothing that I do makes any difference in the end, anyway, I’m still scared. Why am I still scared? So just tell me what to do. Just fucking tell me what to do, Father.

Why choose it? 
Waller-Bridge’s one woman show was expanded into a multi-character television series in 2016. This speech is from the second season, which aired in 2019. The show has become famous, and with good reason. It’s funny at the same time as being deeply human, and this monologue explores the experience of looking for guidance from religion when you don’t believe in God. This is a chance for the actor to show the vulnerability of a character who usually hides behind candid humour – with the added irony of being directed to a priest. 

Constellations, Nick Payne (2012) 

Act 2, Scene 12
Character: Roland 

There are three different kinds of bees. The drones, the workers and a single, solitary queen. The workers are all women. Their job is to forage for honey, pollen, etcetera. Their lifespan is potentially anywhere between five weeks and six months. And then they die. Drones exist solely to have sex with the queen. Each hive tends to have around a hundred drones. Once they’ve deposited their sperm, their penis gets ripped off and they die. Honeybees have an unfailing clarity of purpose. Their lives are often intensely short. But in a strange sort of way, I’m jealous of the humble honeybee and their quiet elegance. If only our existence were that simple. If only we could understand why it is that we’re here and what it is that we’re meant to spend our lives doing. I am uncertain when it comes to a great many things. But there is now one thing I am definitely certain of. Marianne Aubele, will you marry me? 

Why choose it?
What initially seems to be quite a factual speech about bees becomes a reflection on the meaning of life and culminates in a marriage proposal. The tonal shift from enthusiastically sharing expertise to expressing deeply felt emotion is a chance to surprise the audience while still making the ending feel like a natural conclusion. 

Posh, Laura Wade 

Act 2, Scene 2
Character: Alistair

But you know what, we’re not people. Cause people – people like him – you know, honest, decent, hardworking people hell-bent on turning this country to fuck. He thinks he can have anything if he works hard enough. He also thinks Rugby League is a sport. He thinks his daughter’s getting a useful education at Crapsville College or wherever she’s – I mean this man keeps cheese in the fucking fridge. And these people think we’re twats. Are we going to sit here and take it, carry on taking it? Who the fuck are they anyway? How did they get everywhere, how did they make everything so fucking second rate? I am sick to fucking death of poor people.

Why choose it?
Posh offers a glimpse into a fictionalised interpretation of an exclusive world. This is a good opportunity to play someone controversial, whose brutally honest reflections on ‘poor people’ are shocking. Playing this character requires empathy to make his arrogance convincing. There’s the option to showcase a heightened RP accent if you’d like to play it that way, too.

The Inheritance, Matthew Lopez (2018)

Act 2, Part 2, Scene 4
Character: Eric

You’ve become so good at spinning people you think you can spin me, too. But I know that your book was a fraud from start to finish and your play was even worse. Not without talent, of course. God forbid anyone should accuse you of that. But worse: without truth. Toby, you are so afraid of actually being known – of really looking at yourself – that you have spent the last decade of your life constructing this elaborate narrative that has nothing to do with the truth. What happened to you as a child was unconscionable and it hurts me every single day to know that it did. But that was not the great tragedy of your life, Toby. No, the great tragedy of your life was denying that it was your life, and insisting on another at the expense of the truth. I know who you are, Toby. And I know who you aren’t. You aren’t Elan. And you aren’t Adam. It’s why you gave him the job and it’s why you want to fuck him so badly. Because he is everything you will never be. I couldn’t even look at you after I saw your play. Because it was a betrayal of the frightened little boy you once were. And soon all of New York is going to see it and I will be the only one who’ll remember who you really are. And that’s why you want to get as far away from me as possible: because I would remind you every day of what a fraud you are and what wasted potential your life has become. And that’s what you’re too much of a coward to say.

Why choose it?
Eric is picking apart his boyfriend, Toby, for hiding his personal truth behind art. He’s revealing his innermost thoughts, some of them unkind. The speech captures the unfiltered cruelty that can come from feelings of rejection, giving the actor the chance to give a nuanced and layered performance.  

Punk Rock, Simon Stephens (2009) 

Act 2, Scene 4
Character: Chadwick 

Human beings are pathetic. Everything human beings do finishes up bad in the end. Everything good human beings ever make is built on something monstrous. Nothing lasts. We certainly won’t. We could have made something really extraordinary and we won’t. We’ve been around one hundred thousand years. We’ll have died out before the next two hundred. You know what we’ve got to look forward to? You know what will define the next two hundred years? Religions will become brutalised; crime rates will become hysterical; everybody will become addicted to internet sex; suicide will become fashionable; there’ll be famine; there’ll be floods; there’ll be fires in the major cities of the Western world. Our education systems will become battered; our health services unsustainable; our police forces unmanageable; our governments corrupt. There’ll be open brutality in the streets; there’ll be nuclear war; massive depletion of resources on every level; insanely increasing third-world population. It’s happening already. It’s happening now. Thousands die every summer from floods in the Indian monsoon season. Africans from Senegal wash up on the beaches of the Mediterranean and get looked after by guilty holidaymakers. Somalians wait in hostels in Malta or prison islands north of Australia. Hundreds die of heat or fire every year in Paris. Or California. Or Athens. The oceans will rise. The cities will flood. The power stations will flood. Airports will flood. Species will vanish forever. Including ours. So if you think I’m worried by you calling me names, Bennet, you little, little boy, you are fucking kidding yourself.

Why choose it?
Chadwick is an awkward school student who’s been bullied by fellow pupil, Bennet. His nihilistic outburst shows the angsty world view of a teenager feeling under pressure and hints at the eventual violence of the play. A good performance of this piece demands empathy and subtlety so the character isn’t undermined. It gives the actor a nice chance to let loose with an energetic rant.

The Libertine, Stephen Jeffreys (1994)

Prologue
Character: Lord Rochester

Allow me to be frank at the commencement. You will not like me. The gentlemen will be envious and the ladies will be repelled. You will not like me now and you will like me a good deal less as we go on. Ladies, an announcement: I am up for it, all the time. That is not a boast or an opinion, it is bone hard medical fact. I put it round you know. And you will watch me putting it round and sigh for it. Don't. It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance than you would be if I got my tarse up your petticoats. Gentlemen. Do not despair, I am up for that as well. And the same warning applies. Still your cheesy erections till I have had my say. But later when you shag – and later you will shag, I shall expect it of you and I will know if you have let me down – I wish you to shag with my homuncular image rattling in your gonads. Feel how it was for me, how it is for me and ponder. 'Was that shudder the same shudder he sensed? Did he know something more profound? Or is there some wall of wretchedness that we all batter with our heads at that shining, livelong moment.' That is it. That is my prologue, nothing in rhyme, no protestations of modesty, you were not expecting that I hope. I am John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester and I do not want you to like me.

Why choose it?
This attention-grabbing piece is a great chance to make casting directors sit up and listen. It’s a funny, bawdy prelude that playfully combines classical language with modern, colloquial words and innuendos to make even the prudish snigger. It might be a modern play, but there’s room for a performance with the wit and flair of a Restoration comedy. 

There are heaps of notable contemporary monologues that’ll make an impression in an audition. Now you’ve got a feel for a few of them, make sure you choose one that complements the rest of your repertoire. For example, if you’ve got a few comedy monologues in your arsenal, go for something a bit more serious for your contemporary piece. Most importantly, prepare and practise. Read the whole play, figure out what’s going on in the scene and get really clear about the objective of the speech. That way you’re in with a great chance of impressing the people watching and landing the part, whether they’re seeing it for the first or the 50th time.