I talk a lot about the benefits of comedy in an audition repertoire. It’s an icebreaker. It’s a way “in” to you. What you find funny is great information for both you and the casting people. Monologue auditions are problematic by nature. One of the reasons for this is that the pieces you perform occur out of the context of the play, at least for the audience. It’s easier to connect to a comedic piece without context as opposed to a dramatic piece.
But sometimes we have to roll in the deep, as it were. Whether an audition posting requires it, or the play demands it, you have to have a dramatic piece available.
Whether an audition posting requires it, or the play demands it, you have to have a dramatic piece available.
And sometimes you have to get to its depths in 30 seconds in an audition room.
I’m taking an incredible Shakespeare class and in it I am getting my ass rightly kicked. I was given a monologue from King John, the role of Constance. Constance, as Asimov says in his Guide to Shakespeare, “has no parallel in literature for sheer intensity of anguish.”
“No pressure there,” said my Shakespeare teacher.
No shit.
With much assistance and digging in during class I was able to find a way in. But rehearsing at home resulted in less successful access to Constance’s “anguish.” Feeling overwhelmed by performance pressure and vulnerability blockages I did as many an actor before me and pushed the “hard” stuff aside and started to focus on an upcoming project that, at this juncture at least (i.e. I haven’t started rehearsal yet), requires much less of me than Constance.
I started watching the documentary The Theatre of War which is both a documentary about Bertolt Brecht and his relationship to conflict and also the 2006 New York production of Mother Courage starring Meryl Streep. The latter was my initial interest. It’s a rare look at motherf*ckin’ Meryl Streep in rehearsal. I was, to say the least, curious. What is her process like? How does she dig in?
Well, as brilliant as Meryl is in the role, and she is… (Watching Jeanine Tesori create songs written specifically for Meryl in front of your eyes inspires such levels of respect and envy in a much younger and much, much greener actress such as myself, I was rendered incoherent. As you can see, I’ve since recovered.) Still, as brilliant as Meryl is, the 2006 production faded into the background as Brecht’s assistant narrates the process behind the original Mutter Courage as played by Helene Weigel-Brecht.
She was Brecht’s wife, and judging from the audio recordings of her performance (even in German, a language I absolutely do not speak) and from the production photos, Helene Weigel-Brecht was incredible.
Yes. I said judging from the production photos.
There is a moment (spoiler alert) after Mother Courage has lost all her children, when her merchant side, her vicious facade, has faded away and she is in one particular moment, as Meryl says, “solely a mother.”
And she screams. They call it a “howl of despair.”
This is a photo of Helene Weigel-Brecht screaming.
Silently.
That’s right. Her choice was to make the scream completely silent.
Never have I seen a PRODUCTION photo that has evoked such an emotional reaction from me.
And in that moment, I understood Constance.
I hope I can pull the wagon by myself. Yes, I’ll manage, there’s not much in it now. I must get back into business.
Bertolt Brecht, Mother Courage and Her Children
Back into business.
Remember in high school when you said this a lot: “I can’t. I have play practice.”? Now it’s not “practice,” it’s “rehearsal.” It’s unfortunate the whole idea of idea of practice has somewhat gone away.
Ballet dancers have the barre.
Painters the canvas.
Photographers their camera.
Musicians their instrument.
Studio space. Sketches. Scales. Class.
Practice. It’s not a synonym for “rehearsal.” It’s a different beast entirely.
Actors have a somewhat different routine than other creative and/or performing artists:
Audition Audition Audition. Drink. Audition. Rehearse. Rehearse. Drink. Show. Drink. Rinse. Drink. Repeat.
Sure, we run our material for the audition. We may warm up a bit. We might even take a class. But most of us don’t cultivate the idea of true practice. Is there an actorly equivalent to a musical scale? Certainly, in musical theatre we can practice dancing and singing, but acting is a bit more difficult to pin down.
Miriam Webster’s definition of practice is as follows:
The obsolete and archaic versions are my fave: To plot. To intrigue. Ha! Think about it though. To practice IS a strategy. The one that REALLY trips my trigger is definition 1c: To be professionally engaged in. This implies that practice isn’t just blindly running material in your living room. Practice can be seeing shows with an open mind that is available for learning. Practice can be working out. Practice can be taking a class.
I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before. But it’s true – hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don’t love something, then don’t do it.
Ray Bradbury
The key, I believe, is in our repertoire. In it lie juicy opportunities to truly practice. Not just run them, but really dig in and discover them. A lot of times, when I’m coaching or when I ‘m working on my own stuff, there are discoveries that make an old monologue new again. So much so, that it seems unfamiliar. This is good. Nerdy as it sounds, scene study groups are a good idea. But so is individual work. The idea of the actor being a self-employed entity really comes into play when you are not currently in a show or rehearsal period. Some of us don’t practice well on our own. We feel overwhelmed and don’t know where to start. Grab a friend. Hire a coach. Take lessons. But find a way. Truly you can ONLY benefit.
Practice puts brains in your muscles.
Sam Snead
Don’t get me wrong. Rest is good. Rest is necessary. Vacation. Time Away. You shouldn’t be practicing ALL the time. This isn’t about stressing yourself. It’s about getting rid of the idea that when you are not actively employed as an actor, you are not an actor. It’s about getting rid of the vacuum that makes us feel helpless or useless without an actual performance space. You are not powerless. You are not helpless.
Practice means to perform, over and over again in the face of all obstacles, some act of vision, of faith, of desire. Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.
Martha Graham
It’s not necessarily the amount of time you spend at practice that counts; it’s what you put into the practice.
Eric Lindros
Always be working. Even when you aren’t working.
Be professionally engaged in practice.
The monologue intimidates actors. It seems so…raw. At least with a song, you’ve got that blessed accompaniment you know..accompanying you. If you’ve got sides, there is a script in your hand. A monologue feels like it is snatched from the ether, with no context, and worse you get the least feedback from performing them.
Obviously, as a coach, I’m a big fan of hiring an outside eye for audition preparation. It reveals your “parasites” as my one of my ol’ actin’ teachers called them. You know, your habits, your nervous moves. I know one actor who slaps their thigh. I know another who sort of pumps their leg like Megadeath is playing in their brain. There’s the scratch behind the ear. The Josh Harnett squint. The chin wrinkle. I could go on and on. The thing about parasites is, you don’t always know you are doing them. A coach can help you identify and get rid of the parasites. Plus it’s nice to know when you need to be specific, if a gesture is unclear. You guys. I’m a fan of coaching. I yam one.
BUT. Sometimes there just ain’t time or resources to hire a coach. I like to provide anecdotes from my own acting career because first and foremost I’m an actor. I learn from listening to my fellow actors talk about their experiences.
I recently found myself in a situation. I had an audition with someone who has seen me before, and even liked my monologue enough to write it down. That meant one thing: DON’T DO THAT MONOLOGUE AGAIN UNLESS HE ASKS!
So I had to dig in and prep a new one (I was due anyway).
So here are my tips on prepping a monologue fast and successfully.
1. Read the play. You just…gotta. It tells you really important information like who you are speaking to, what the moment before is, where you are, and what’s on the line. That said…in an audition situation, particularly in a general audition (where monologues are most often used), the point is to show who YOU are as an actor. For audition purposes only, it’s cool to take some things out of context. Make it your own.
2. Answer this question: what’s on the line? I like this better than “what is your objective?” or “what do you want?” That can get all….mushy. We have immediate objectives, higher ones, lower ones… all important info but at this particular moment…What is on the line?
3. Shorter is better (and side bonus- quicker to prepare) . That 3 minute limit they give you? It’s not a challenge. Find a piece with a solid beginning, middle, and end and aim for around 1-1:30 minutes. That’s long enough to establish yourself, and short enough to leave them wanting more and not overstay your welcome.
4. If there is no specification, use a comedic piece or at least a piece with a sense of humor. As far as I’m concerned, a fully dramatic monologue that comes out of the blue is like watching somebody cry at a bar. It’s uncomfortable; it’s really hard to invest in it; there isn’t any context; nobody knows what to say afterwards. Better to make ’em laugh, or at least chuckle inwardly. Laughter provides a connection between you and the casting team.
As far as I’m concerned, a fully dramatic monologue that comes out of the blue is like watching somebody cry at a bar.
5. LOVE THE PIECE. LOVE IT. GODDAMMIT. “It’s alright” or “it gets the job done” is NOT OKAY. LOVE IT.
6. Mark your beats. Beats indicate moments of change. They are important.
7. Mark your punctuation. Punctuation is the playwright’s map key for you.
8. Make choices. Have a point of view. Experiment with making the choices large in scope. Push your limits. You may discover something.
TIP: Recite your monologues to yourself as you do your normal daily routine: while doing laundry, makeup and hair, washing dishes, laying in bed, walking to work. I’ve discovered many gestures doing this. I’ve also discovered things about the text by exploring it in this way. (It’s also a great way to really familiarize yourself with your lines.)
9. Establish who you are talking to. Create them. STAGE them. What is this imaginary actor doing. Is it pissing you off? Is it turning you on? How are you physically engaging with them. You have to know.
10. Make your opening moment undeniable. What I mean by that is there should be no question of when you are starting. Don’t ease in. Jump in.
11. When prepping at home, do the whole audition including slate (Hi I’m Ferd Farkle, my monologue is from a Pringles commercial”) AND wear the shoes you plan on wearing. You have to feel like you’re gonna feel and you have to say all the words you’re going to have to say.
12. Rehearse it full voice, full performance. DON’T JUST RUN FOR LINES. Make every moment count.
13. Gesture only when you absolutely have to. That means, a gesture must carry intention. When you do gesture, make it count.
14. Use the space. Look at it. SEE it. If you choose to use the chair, it doesn’t have to be just a chair.
15. Make a choice that seems counter intuitive to the rest of the monologue. Think back to a time when you were full out sobbing. 90% of the time, there is a moment when you chuckle. You sniff. You wipe your nose. Or when you are laughing so hard and then you suddenly realize you are late. Big change. It’s so interesting to watch. You are reminiscing with your sibling and then they say something that makes you go “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” Find the record scratch moment.
16. Make a discovery. Your character needs to learn something new during that monologue otherwise you are just public speaking. Find a moment where you realize something. It doesn’t have to be at a beat change. Midline realizations are inherently watchable.
17. Take your time. I may encourage the monologue itself to be short, but use all the time you have and live the moments. You should know the pacing as well as your lines.
- 17. b But have a sense of urgency. This is a moment in a character’s life that you chose. Ergo, it must be an important moment in that character’s life.
18. Make the end clear.
I hope that helps you prepare dynamic monologues and takes away some monologue anxiety.
Be Specific. Be Bold. Be You.
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