Distance Learning Film: Writing Monologues
In an earlier lesson, I had a look at the acting side of monologues, and their importance when performed. This included how a performer could enhance the words of a writer. Well, today I’m observing the literary aspect, and how monologues are used by a screenwriter. What is the importance of writing long passages for a character to deliver? There are actually a number of clear intentions for a monologue to be used when broken down fundamentally. As much as they are a key to a solid performance, they are also a lifesaver to writers everywhere for the following reasons.
Any clip here is a potential spoiler to the respective film featured. Reader discretion is advised.
Exposition
Exposition can be one of the most challenging essentials to get out of the way in a screenplay. You have to set up a scenario for viewers, otherwise they may be lost or misunderstand motivations. This includes backstories or the current situations with context as presented on screen. You will notice a film with poor execution of exposition, because a character will usually talk unlike a human being or in a conversational tone (an example would be “We need to get to the restaurant now because Simon is a very testy fellow, and we can’t afford to lose his trust in us!”). Good exposition can be difficult if you don’t have the room to be creative. So, there are some go-to tools for writers, including the usage of monologues.
The most common example you will find is in the form of narration. This is done so in a way that allows visual elements to take place at the same time, thus achieving a literary voice and visual storytelling at the same time. Narration may be frowned upon for distancing viewers on an aesthetic level (you’re being told what you’re experiencing), but it can do the trick on a literary level, especially if not over used. Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings series is excellent with using the introductions of each film (especially The Fellowship of the Ring) to establish a current scenario or some backstory. This usually comes in the form of the mystical royal elf Galadriel that can see all, and delivers us her visions of the past. We know everything we need to know about J. R. R. Tolkien’s world building before the events of the current story (and there is a lot of information to be learned, too).
If a writer wants to avoid narration, then a more standard monologue can be written, in a diegetic sense (diegetic meaning that it takes place within the actual story, so not a voice over or music not emitted from within the scene, but instead placed on top in post production as a cinematic element). A character can discuss themselves, maybe in a job interview, a date, or a sales pitch. We learn about how these characters present themselves, but we also discover who these people are altogether.
The first scene with dialogue in There Will Be Blood features Daniel Plainview trying to promote his oil drilling business in a small town. He does so by painting himself out as a family man, and thus we learn more about himself, his adopted son, and the actual business they both run.
Personal Backstory
Similar to the expositional approach, we can discover backstories in monologue form. For me, the major difference between these two usages is what we get out of them. With the exposition examples, we’re learning about characters or scenarios for the first time. In this example, we learn something additional about someone or something we’re already familiar with. This can be a confession to an officer or loved one, a recounting of an event to a therapist, a truth being told by a non-liar about someone deceptive, and other instances where a character would open up. Believe it or not, characters being scared, threatened or drunk in a scene is often a method to get a character to discuss themselves on an open level (take that into account the next time you wonder why a character spends so much time in a bar, for instance). It’s all in the name of development and writing!
In this example, we have a more honest case of a child discussing (in her own imaginative way) why her mother is unable to speak in The Piano. We’re already introduced to these characters by now, but we are given a small monologue about what a child believes happened to her mother. We learn that her mother could initially talk at some point, some sort of an accident occurred, and that her child is an inspired storyteller of her own. All it takes is one brief monologue.
Realization of Self
With the idea of characters opening up through monologues, we are now brought to the next (similar) example: a character realizing something about themselves. This can create stimulating conversation between two characters (as one talks and the other listens after they posed a question or ice breaker), as well as show a comfort a person is feeling within a scene. This also textures characters on a more ambiguous level, so we’re not just listening to motives or histories. We’re hearing what characters think about life and themselves. It’s a tool to humanize these literary beings.
In this tender moment in The Bridge on the River Kwai, Colonel Nicholson begins to go off on a tangent on his observations of life that have crossed his mind lately, before his dropping of his baton into the river below snaps him out of his train of thought. We’re learning more about Nicholson as a fully fledged being, rather than a character that serves a story.
Foretelling the Story
Now, let’s head the opposite direction. What if you don’t mention what happened previously in a story, but are intending on foreshadowing what will (or may) happen? This tactic can be used for a few reasons. Firstly, this can be exposition told now, so the scene later on can play out in a fluid fashion without having to be explained to us. Secondly, a writer or filmmaker can try and bait the audience into thinking something will happen, only for our expectations to be thwarted (think of a heist that goes wrong); this creates twists, or allows the story to be stemmed from what doesn’t go right. Thirdly, a monologue that details a future event or describes a plan can cause tension, as we wait to see if all goes well. If you’re told someone will wait on the corner of Main and First, and you eventually arrive at a scene where a stranger is at that intersection, you mentally begin to wonder if the rest will go according to plan.
In this The Godfather scene, a disgruntled Michael Corleone tries to set up a plan to get back at a dirty cop. His monologue is the detailing of what can be done to take the officer down, thus setting up a future sequence (the outcome, of which, I won’t spoil).
Commenting on Society and Politics
If a screenplay is a heavy commentary on society or politics, a writer may use this opportunity to state their opinion to a worldwide audience. These monologues are usually upfront and not disguised in any way, as to get a point across effectively. This also showcases a writer’s full capabilities, as this is the moment for an author to wow a viewer. In order for these monologues to work, proper character and world building is needed to warrant audiences to listen to these speeches. Why is it important that we listen to these people now? An unwilling viewer won’t want to hear what someone has to say politically. Getting immersed in an engaging film will change that, even if the viewer disagrees with what is being said.
Network is always my go-to for monologues, because it may be one of cinema’s finest vaults for speeches. This following scene features ailing news anchor Howard Beale ranting about the control of the media over the masses, to an audience that is likely not paying full attention whatsoever. By now, Beale has gone on a number of rants, and is trying to use his podium to say more of how he is feeling. In reality, writer Paddy Chayefsky is telling us how he feels about the deceptive nature of television and the news, through this character vehicle. The irony is how the audience does what they are told, even though Beale is telling us to think for ourselves.
Poetry as a Monologue
Another way a writer can flex their capabilities is by creating poetry for their characters to state. Similar to the use of political speeches, poetry is the chance for a writer to truly shine, except in a more personal, emotional way. This can also render characters as organic beings with feelings and artistic ideas, rather than static literary devices. Unlike political speeches, this is usually a writer’s way of detailing a character rather than their own strict points of view, even though this is their way of showing their best pieces of writing.
Warning: The following scene is a major spoiler to the film Blade Runner. Reader discretion is advised.
In the climax of Blade Runner, android (or replicant) Roy Batty has come to terms with his own fate, and shares a humanistic moment with us. This adds a sympathetic side to a character that has been detailed as an antagonist in the film, as well as prove once more that replicants in this universe have the capabilities of abstract thought and pure emotions, thus making their quest for complete life and freedom resonate more with us. Just to clarify that the “tears in rain” speech was written by actor Rutger Hauer himself, as he condensed the previously written monologue and added his own flair. Still, a greatly written monologue is a greatly written monologue.
Bonus: Lyrics as Monologues
To end things off, I’m going to bring up something that isn’t discussed nearly enough when it comes to monologues in film and/or theatre: how musical numbers serve as monologues. In all honesty, are well written lyrics not the inner thoughts of a character or the delivery of exposition? To me, they are, and these are the monologues in musicals. Since musicals (usually) try to carry a film’s plot with their songs, the use of lyrics is incredibly important to keep the story going. If one sole person is singing, this to me is absolutely a monologue if they are detailing how they feel, their past lives, or any other form of a monologue’s intention, as discussed throughout this lesson.
Take the below West Side Story number as an example. Here, a character is professing they are in love, and we learn how they feel in song form. Strip away the music, have the character say the lines instead of singing them, and remove obvious rhyming schemes and other song structural traits, and this is a monologue about someone realizing they are falling in love.
A more different example is the following scene in Dancer in the Dark, where a mother that’s slowly going blind comes to grips with her predicament. A majority of the song is her own self realization that she is going to be okay without her sight. The rest of the song is done via duet, with one character continuing her thought process by asking her about additional things she may never see again; even though this is technically a conversation during these moments, it continues the mother’s previous sentiments during her monologue. Either way, characters are being built and plot is being progressed, even during a song.
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.