Monologue reading and ill-gotten thoughts

I thought that the one aspect that differentiated a good monologue from a bad one was heart. Characters interest me the most when they are speaking from experience and truth, a quality which many of The Vagina Monologues and The Laramie Project’s characters seemed to have. I particularly like a monologue that seems like someone is telling me a secret – something that they are dying to tell someone, and the monologue that they are giving is their only outlet. The Vagina Monologues especially were begging to be heard. The words were forcing themselves out of the characters, and that necessity drew me inexplicably to the speeches. There is often a fine line between a character with heart and a grandiose monologue, and it may come from characterization. It is easy to hear the difference in real life. If the speaker is nervous that people won’t think they are genuine or smart, the result is often a pompous speech that has lost much of its meaning. I didn’t feel that this happened in the Vagina Monologues, or very often in The Laramie Project or Sonnets for an Old Century.

Some of the speeches in the Laramie Project didn’t have the heart that the Vagina Monologues did because the speakers had to maintain continuity with the story and had to direct their feelings toward an interviewer. This makes me think that whenever possible, a monologue should be about the most emotionally important thing to that character. The Vagina Monologues and the Laramie Project naturally create that connection through a strong emotional bond with their subject matter.

The monologues in the reading all gave me the “oh, that’s why” feeling once I finished them. The beauty of a monologue is the internal story arc that is opened, explored, and closed almost immediately. When a speaker is talking it becomes a game to figure out what they are talking about. All of a sudden and without warning the speaker reveals fact after fact, breathing life and explanation into an enigma Before I have had the time to decide how I feel about the character, the monologue is over and I am left feeling like a part of me has been removed. Most of the monologues I read followed that pattern or a similar one.

I don’t like Neil Simon plays because the characters seem contrived. Their words are so perfect and balanced that they rub me the wrong way. I didn’t connect to Sonnets for an Old Century as much as I did the other readings for the same reason. People don’t often repeat the beginning of a phrase and vary the end over and over again. It sounds nice, but ultimately means almost nothing. Stories aren’t usually linear in someone head, so when the linearity was pristine it made me gag a little. People are imperfect. They stumble over words or say things out of order. Confusion is a reality. I like to struggle because it makes me feel like I have a real connection with a character. If the meaning, story line, and metaphors are packaged up with an instruction manual, chances are I'm not going to enjoy it.

I like monologues because of the self-exploration. In the audience I am a spy looking into someone’s life. They are pouring personal secrets onto the stage and I am lapping them up one after another. I am on a stakeout in their bedroom and I am privy to all of their imperfections, insecurities, and self blame. I am saying nothing about myself to reciprocate. Hearing something truthful and deeply, personally emotional is my goal as a listener, and I feel cheated when the speaker uses this time as a soapbox to show how smart and passionate they are. A good rule of thumb for me is that if the character wouldn't dare say their monologue in polite company or on a first date, it is probably a decent monologue. Safety and security must be shed to make way for heart.

WILLIAMS OUT

Gettin' stoked

Oh, I'm totally stoked. Dangerously stoked. Hey, somebody watch out for this guy.