Audition Monologues for Roles Where Characters Experiment With Something New, Vol. 3
The most-watchable performers are the ones who let you see them think. The fastest way to develop that on-screen quality is to rehearse characters who are doing something they have never done before. The thinking isn't decorative; it is the spine of the scene. Practice monologues built around firsts give you a built-in reason to be present, alert, unpolished. That is the texture casting wants from actors who can carry a role. Use this volume to rebuild your habit of discovery. Ten characters, all of them in the middle of figuring it out.
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Greta — 64, joining a gym for the first time in her life
(Standing in the gym lobby, slightly bewildered) Maureen. Do not laugh. (laughs) I just signed a contract. With a gym. There were papers. They asked me about emergency contacts and I wrote your name and you don't know about it yet. Surprise. (sighs) The girl at the counter, Maureen, she was twenty-two. She wore one of those little headsets. She asked me what my fitness goals were and I told her, I want to be able to lift my grandbaby without my back going out. And she wrote it down. She wrote it down like it was a real answer. (beat) I haven't done anything athletic since I played softball in 1976. I don't know what any of these machines do. They all look like medieval torture. (firmer) But I am here. I bought the shoes. I am wearing the shoes. Get over here in twenty minutes and find me. I'm probably going to be on a bicycle that doesn't go anywhere.
Dale — 38, contractor stepping into his first yoga class
(Whispering, mid-class, to the woman next to him) Excuse me. Sorry. Am I doing this right? It's called downward, the dog one. I think I pulled something in my, in my whatever this is. (grimaces) I'm a contractor. I lift things. I move things. My back is destroyed in a very specific work-related way. (laughs quietly) My wife said yoga would help. I said yoga is for people who don't sweat. She said, that is the kind of attitude that put you in the chiropractor's office every Tuesday. Fair. (groans softly) The instructor keeps saying breathe into your hips. Lady, I don't know what that means. My hips don't have lungs. (longer beat) But, okay. I'm trying. I'm trying to breathe into my hips. (closes eyes) Oh. (pause) That actually helped a little. Don't tell my wife. She will be insufferable for a month.
Naya — 27, gym-rat trying her first rock climbing session
(Strapped into a harness, looking up at the wall) Marcus, I want you to be honest with me. I have done CrossFit for four years. I bench more than most of the men at my gym. (laughs) Why is this so much harder than I thought it would be. (looking up) That route is rated 5.8. A child climbed it before us. A literal child. I watched her. She had a juice box at the bottom. (sighs) My grip strength is fine. My grip strength is great. So why are my forearms screaming at me. (beat) Okay. Okay. Don't say anything. I'm going up. (starts climbing) Oh, this is, this is also using my brain. Why is it using my brain. (panicking, exhilarated) I get it now. I get why people are obsessed. (loud) Marcus. Marcus, take a picture. Take a picture right now. I want to send this to everyone who has ever doubted me.
Bartholomew — 52, accountant six weeks into his first marathon training
(Mid-jog, gasping, to his running buddy) Ellis. Ellis, listen. I am going to walk for thirty seconds. Don't judge me. (slows) Six weeks. Six weeks of this. The training plan said by week six I'd be doing eight miles without stopping. I'm doing five and crying. (laughs, wheezy) My toenails. My toenails, Ellis. Two of them are coming loose. Did anybody warn me about the toenails? Why is this in nobody's Instagram? (sighs) But I signed up. November. November fifteenth. I told my daughter. I told my wife. I told the guy at the running shop and he was so happy for me he gave me a gel packet. (resumes jogging) Okay, I'm going again. (breathing hard) I'm fifty-two years old. I have never been an athlete in my life. And I am going to cross a finish line in eleven weeks, even if I do it on three toenails.
Ophelia — 19, theater kid joining a roller derby team on a whim
(Sitting on the floor, tying skates) Mom, listen. Don't make that face. (laughs) I know I have rehearsal Tuesday. I'll be there. But Tuesday I am also a derby girl. (lifts a skate) These are mine. I bought them. They have purple wheels. (sighs) Okay, full disclosure, I went to one practice and they put me on the floor four times. Four. Marisol elbowed me on purpose. I have a bruise the size of a saucer on my hip. (grins) I love it. Mom, I love it. (firmer) I have been playing ingenues since I was twelve. I have been the nice girl in every show. I have a voice teacher who calls me delicate. (stands unsteadily) I'm not delicate. I want to find out what I actually am. And right now, in these skates, I think I might be terrifying. (grins) Don't tell Dad yet.
Reggie — 71, retired professor taking adult swimming lessons
(Sitting on the edge of the pool, talking to his instructor) Annie, before we start, I want you to know something. I have a doctorate in medieval history. I have published four books. I have given keynote addresses on three continents. (beat) And I cannot swim. I have never been able to swim. I am seventy-one years old, and the deep end has haunted me my entire life. (sighs) My grandson, my Eli, he turned five last month. And he asked me, Pop-Pop, will you go in the pool with me. And I made up an excuse. I made up an excuse to a five-year-old, Annie. (firmer) I will not be that man again. I will not. So you teach me. You teach me whatever you teach the kids. Front float, kicks, all of it. (lowers himself into the water, gasps) Oh, that is cold. That is. Okay. Okay. I'm in. I'm in. Tell me what to do.
Sasha — 33, yoga teacher trying CrossFit for the first time
(After a workout, lying on the gym floor) Ben. Ben. Don't talk to me. (beat) Actually, do. Do talk to me. I need to hear human voices. (laughs weakly) Twelve years. Twelve years of yoga. I am bendy. I am balanced. I can hold a handstand for forty-five seconds. And these people just made me do something called burpees. I have a master's degree, Ben, and I do not know what a burpee is. Or, I do now. I do now. (groans) The woman next to me. The woman next to me did seventy. Seventy. Her bib said 'Linda' and she has six grandchildren. (sighs) Yoga taught me to listen to my body. My body is currently telling me to leave. (laughs) But I'm coming back tomorrow. Because Linda did seventy and I did twenty-three and I cannot let that stand. Don't judge me. We are all complicated people.
Eustace — 45, lifelong landlocked father taking surf lessons on vacation
(Standing on the beach, board under his arm) Pearl. Pearl, this is ridiculous. I am forty-five years old. I am from Nebraska. (laughs) The teenager who runs this surf school just told me to think of the board as my buddy. The board is not my buddy, Pearl. The board wants me dead. (sighs) The water is so much bigger than I thought. I knew it was big. I've seen pictures. But standing here, looking at it, it is just, it is just everything. (looks at her) The kids are watching. From the towels. They will never let me forget this if I chicken out. And honestly, neither will I. (pause) Remember when you asked me what I wanted for my forty-fifth birthday and I said something stupid like a quiet weekend? This. This is what I wanted. I just didn't know it. (kisses her) I love you. If I die, the truck is yours.
Maribel — 29, accountant taking up boxing after a bad breakup
(Wrapping her hands, looking in a gym mirror) Don't look at me like that, Coach. I know what you're thinking. (laughs) You're thinking, another woman who came in after a breakup wanting to feel powerful. And yes, fine. That is exactly what this is. (sighs) I sat in my apartment for three weeks. Three weeks. I ate cereal and watched old shows and cried at commercials. And one day I drove past your gym and I thought, I would like to hit something that is not myself. (beat) I have never thrown a punch in my life. The hardest thing I have ever hit is a printer at work. So you are going to teach me. From scratch. (firmer) And I don't want a pep talk. I want a schedule. I want to be sore tomorrow. (squares up to the bag) Show me. Where do my feet go.
Jonas — 56, recently widowed retiree attempting a cross-country bike tour
(On the phone with his daughter, sitting beside a loaded bicycle) Sweetheart. I'm in Kansas. (laughs) Kansas. Three weeks in, fourteen states to go. My butt has its own zip code. (sighs) The bike is fine. The bike is great. I named her Eleanor. Don't tell your mother. Or do, I don't know. (pause) Met a man in Missouri named Carl. We rode together for two days. He's also a widower. We didn't talk about it much. We talked about chain lube and gas station coffee. (softer) Your mother would have hated this trip. She would've said, Jonas, sleep in a real bed. Why are you camping at fifty-six. (catches breath) I'm doing it because I need to. Because I'd sit in the house and stare. I needed to move. (firmer) Tell your brother I'm fine. Tell him I'll call from Colorado. Tell him I love him. (hangs up, looks at the road)
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