Distance Learning Film: Monologues
As an effort to be a reliable resource during social distancing practices, we are putting together some easy guides on popular topics in film as an effort to better reach educators in need of lesson enhancement.
A monologue is a lengthy reflection of self attributed mainly to performance mediums (having been originated during the evolution of theatre, long before cinema). Usually, a monologue is a devoted amount of time to one character addressing another character, a crowd of characters, the audience, or themselves. These lines are devoted to inner thought, either as a revelation or a message that is needing to come out. Either way, think of monologues as a classy, refined form of not being able to stop talking. Usually, these are ways to allow a character to be enhanced, or a means for a character to progress a topic of discussion, perhaps as a pivotal moment in a story’s plot.
So, in cinema, monologues can be used to also showcase acting and writing capabilities, which is often why these moments stick out so much for many viewers. A successful monologue is a memorable segment of a film, particularly because they are used for crucial points. Without background clutter or chaotic editing, a film gets an opportunity to breathe. Having a masterful writer pair up with a skilled performer allows this deceptively quiet moment — environmentally, not vocally (in case a monologue is made up of yelling) — to reel audiences in. The right speaker can hook you on every word, so you are gripped by a compelling performance whilst being hypnotized by a well discussed subject (an internal struggle, a political point, or even just a pleasant memory). We can discuss the evolutions of monologues in a masterclass another day. For now, we’re just going to look at some prime examples of monologues, and why they work.
Keep in mind that any of these clips can be deemed spoilers to their respective films. Reader discretion is advised.
Inner Conflict
We bring up Laurence Olivier and his Shakespeare works in our lessons often, and for good reason. The legendary thespian understood screenplays better than most performers in film history. In Hamlet, he delivers the iconic “To be or not to be” soliloquy with the utmost focus on introspection, as opposed to dramatizing these disturbed lines. In this above example, the titular character contemplates taking his own life, before coming to a sudden realization that he does not actually want to die. Notice how he looks towards the horizon while wishing to die, and then coils away from the cliff as he has a discussion with himself. He stares into the heavens above initially, but then peers off to the side in the deepest of thoughts. It’s a naturalistic monologue that was already well written (this is William Shakespeare after all), but Olivier’s gentle approach renders these lines in an authentic way that still feels captivating.
Nostalgia
Believe it or not, but Ben Johnson won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, and he isn’t even in The Last Picture Show for ten minutes. Let that sink in. Obviously, the little screen time he had was put to great use. Take this above scene for example. His character Sam “The Lion” is aiming to share his experiences with two teenagers, only to get caught up in the nostalgia of his own youth. Johnson starts off trying to be almost fatherly, and then he gets carried away by his memories. He begins to stare off into the distance, as he is no longer educating; rather, he is just reminiscing out loud. Johnson captures that one person we’ve all met who knows how to tell a story, mainly because he is keeping these recollections as organically delivered as possible. He did win an Oscar for a reason.
Pain
Another scene we bring up often is Marlon Brando’s candid revelations in On the Waterfront. For most of the film, his character Terry Malloy is tight lipped, because the mob has been breathing down his neck for years. He lost his boxing career because he felt forced to throw a fight, and yet he continues to be in the clutches of the mob while working on the dock. Here, he finally opens up about how he feels: resentment, and disappointment in his brother Charley (who was his connection to the mob in the first place). Brando has a fixed stare and a wavering voice, as if he has been holding onto these words for years and still isn’t quite sure how to say how he feels. What renders this part of a conversation a “monologue” is Terry’s unveiling of deeply rooted sentiments for a decent amount of time, turning the back of this car into the inside of his mind. A beautifully acted scene that turns a greatly written script into the climax of a motion picture.
Denial
A monologue can translate into constant, arbitrary ramblings occasionally. The purpose here is to reveal more about a character’s nature, rather than their strict history. Sure, we learn a little bit about Jasmine’s difficult past in this Blue Jasmine scene, but we learn more about her constant lying (especially to herself). The monologue is cut up by her sister’s children, who ask her blunt questions, likely because they don’t understand her rants, nor do they believe her. We also discover Jasmine’s detachment from society, thanks to Cate Blanchett’s brilliant delivery of these lines. Jasmine isn’t condescending to these kids. She flat out can’t realize why they wouldn’t understand her. Toss in Blanchett’s ability to play drunk exceptionally well, and you have a plethora of self-confrontations and lies that are as funny as they are depressing.
Motivation
Charlie Chaplin is arguably the most famous silent film star of all time. He used this knowledge to contradict himself when the world needed him to do so the most. The satirical The Great Dictator is now iconic for Chaplin’s final speech (yes, one of Chaplin’s greatest moments of all time is him talking). He sends a message to the world during the start of World War II. He begins soft spoken, as if he feels that his words are futile. He then commands the entire screen, with every single word he belts out being as powerful as the last. It’s clear that in this particular moment, Chaplin is speaking to us directly as an audience; it’s as if The Great Dictator was just a platform for him to talk with us. Every statement he projects was relevant back in 1940, and his speech remains relevant now. Chaplin’s monologue here remains one of the greatest speeches in film history, mainly because it was written and delivered as a speech before it was treated like a piece of cinematic revelation.
Manipulation
Almost the antithesis to Chaplin’s speech above, we have the more harrowing outburst given by Ned Beatty in Network (no coincidence: another political satire which aims to be heard as a warning to all that watch it). Beatty starts the scene screaming comedically like an enraged baboon, yet every line he shouts is vital. He’s discussing the corruption of the world (like The Great Dictator, these words are still relevant). You think he is on our side, as well as the character Howard Beale’s (as if he is trying to warn Beale to stop meddling with the higher powers). He discusses the control of companies over people, countries, and money. Notice how the scene gradually has Beatty’s character yelling less and less, and the camera pulls closer to him. By the end of the scene, Beatty is borderline whispering, and right next to Peter Finch (Beale) , as he is trying to coax him into doing his bidding. We get duped as well, as we buy into every word of this monologue, only to discover that Beatty’s character is one of those people willing to let these evils continue in the world; he brings them up only to scare us into following his orders, not to open our eyes (although the film Network does this simultaneously).
Loneliness
We end off with a now renown piece of acting: Ellen Burstyn reflecting on why she is obsessed with wanting to lose weight (and take harmful diet pills). Her character struggles to contain herself for the entire scene, despite her best efforts to appear fine to her distant son. She obviously cracks, and you discover her loneliness not just with her literal words, but due to her persistence to convey how she feels, implying she never gets a chance to open up. She starts to become existentially aware, and brings up her unforeseeable future at her age and without loved ones nearby. This is a great example of someone sharing their contained woes to someone who is finally listening. The difference between this and a more strict monologue (like Hamlet talking to himself) is that Burstyn’s emotions run rampant here, as she is overwhelmed to have her concerns reach someone else, allowing her to be heard for the first time in ages.
There are countless other fantastic monologues in film history, and we will continue to highlight them in future masterclass or distance learning articles.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.