I know. I know. The Contemporary Comedic Monologue the most important, most requested piece and it’s a total b*tch to find.
The number one request I receive from potential new clients is, “Can you find a contemporary comedic monologue for me?” My answer is always a firm but loving, “Sorry.” Here’s why: I can’t find a monologue for you because I can’t love a monologue for you. What do I mean by that? Well, here’s the thing. Comedy is ether. Comedy is intangible. What’s funny to one person is not funny to another. Some actors are able to mine seemingly non-comedic material for laughs. Others need a more obvious punchline. Some are clowns. Some are dry as dirt. I can’t read material through your eyes. What I think is funny might be absolutely boring to you. What you think is funny might go straight over my head. This is why monologue finding can be so intimidating and often fruitless.
Strategies for Finding and Preparing a Contemporary Monologue
These strategies work for any kind of monologue, but they are particularly helpful for contemporary comedic.
1. Do not look for a monologue. Wait, what? You heard me right. Stop searching for monologues. Rather, read plays and fall in love with characters. Your search for a perfect 60 second chunk of text is doomed from the start. Find a character you love. We can build a monologue from there. Stick with me.
Here’s a character I love. Niles Crane. True, he’s on tv, and I absolutely do not advocate using monologues from television or film for auditioning. However, Niles is quite theatrical and will help me to illustrate the ins and outs of a comedic piece.
2. It’s totally fine to cut and paste. This is for an audition, not a production. Editing for time, clarity, and function is a-okay.
3. Don’t necessarily look for a punchline. In the context of auditioning, “comedic” isn’t so much about the big laugh. It’s about a command of language and presence that reflects the human circumstance in a way that evokes an empathetic response from the audience. Not sympathetic (leave that for drama) but rather empathetic. We laugh when we “get” it. It’s hard to talk about comedy.
The important thing is that the piece you use gives you (and the audience) joy and speaks the (often painful) truth.
If nothing else, the comedic monologue should be fun for you to perform.
4. The comedy isn’t always in the language. There are many comedic monologues that, on paper, don’t appear to be particularly hilarious. But the right performer finds physical cues, pauses, glances, gestures that evoke the laughs. The following scene could be captured with the words, “Niles irons his pants.” But it’s so much more. So very much more.
While it is wordless, make no mistake. This is a monologue. What are the keys? Specificity. Commitment. Consistency. An obstacle to be overcome. And the highest stakes possible.
For audition purposes, this cannot be an everyday moment in this character’s life. Even the most banal circumstances are significant. It can begin that way, but it must develop into something extraordinary.
Specificity: Niles is nothing if not precise. It starts with precision and simplicity. Niles begins by attempting to smooth a small wrinkle in his pants. In the wrongs hands, this small gesture could be unnoticeable or muddy. In the hands of David Hyde Pierce, it’s genius.
Commitment: You cannot half-ass good comedy. If you make a choice, make it. Do not apologize for it. Weak gestures, choices, and decisions kill comedy.
Consistency: Much of the comedy in this bit comes from establishing a joke, and then sticking with it. Niles cuts his finger and then becomes faint at the sight of the blood. He then maintains a commitment to the established joke by keeping his finger raised come hell, high water, or in this case, fire. The more consistent he is, the more the laughs build.
Obstacle. There are two obstacles here. The wrinkle. And Time. He must remove the wrinkle before his date shows up.
High Stakes. In the words of Mel Brooks, “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.”The obstacle creates a tension that allows for something as simple as ironing pants to become the most threatening and suspenseful circumstances. Life and Death. Fire and Blood. All from a little wrinkle. If you are truthful and committed, absolutely NOTHING is over the top.
4a. Sometimes it’s in the subtext. What’s the elephant in the room? How can you establish it?
5. Don’t forget contrast. How does piece contrast with other monologues in your repertoire?
6. Take a risk. Commit to the big choice. Don’t acknowledge it’s funny. We, the audience, will do that for you. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself. In this clip, Niles is really thrilled about his new skill. He’s happy. He’s proud. He isn’t quite his normal, dry self. But he also isn’t hamming it up. He is merely committing to the joyful. It then roundly bites him in the ass.
7. What is the opposite for you? What is unexpected? What is charmingly out of character? Comedy is often a character at the end of their rope.
8. He’s not really Niles. He’s David Hyde Pierce.
Without the talents of David Hyde Pierce, we wouldn’t even have Niles. It’s his choices. His physicality. His presence that makes Niles such a delight to watch. The words on the page aren’t nearly as funny unless there is an actor there to flesh out this human being. What can you do to really own the piece? Where are YOU in it? If you found it entertaining, there is something that is “you” in the text.
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9. Make smart edits. So how does this all add up to a monologue? The following is a monologue I put together from one episode of Frasier. I redacted many of Frasier’s lines and commandeered one for clarity. Note: Do not use this piece to audition as it is from television. I use this only to illustrate a method of putting together a comedic monologue:
NILES: I have never experienced that kind of happiness. Not in my whole life. Note even when I bought these $400 Bruno Maglis. (examines shoes)
Do you like them? {FRASIER redacted} What about the tassles? [I’m not really a tassle guy] Nevertheless, there they are.
Oh I have no reason to be unhappy. I have my health. I have a wonderful home. Beautiful wife. Did your eyebrow just move? I have my practice, although lately I’ve lost track of the ideals that led me to psychiatry in the first place. Ah, but look who I’m talking to: psychiatry’s answer to the drive-thru window. You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m not just in psychiatry for the money.
{FRASIER redacted}
What? What were you going to say? Oh there’s no need to. I think I know what you were going to say. You’ve been wanting to ask me this for years. Did I marry Maris for the money? I resent that. I did not marry Maris for the money.
Just a delightful bonus.
{FRASIER redacted}
Of course I love her, it’s just a different kind of love. {FRASIER redacted} It doesn’t burn with the passionate intensity of a Tristan and Isolde. It’s more comfortable. More familiar. Maris and I are good friends. We can spend an afternoon together. Me at my jigsaw puzzle. She at her autoharp. Not a word spoken between us and just be perfectly content.
This is a great example of a piece that isn’t about building to a big punchline. Notice how there’s no big guffaws? There are little hints at who Niles is. “Did your eyebrow just move?” If you needed a very short piece, you could end it after,”Just a delightful bonus.” This is a monologue built for sly and subtle humor. It’s not stand up. There’s no huge payoff. That’s for the actor to find. It let’s us really see Niles. Who he is. Where he’s at. And we get a couple laughs in too. This is the point of a comedic monologue: to interest us, delight us, and most of all, earn us as allies.
10. Say the thing. Notice how the monologue doesn’t fart around getting to the point? It starts out not with exposition or non-sequitors or small talk. It starts out big: “I have never experienced that kind of happiness.” BOOM. We’re in. My God, the audience says. What is going on here? Is that how his line begins in the actual episode? Not at all. He builds us in by telling us about a documentary he was watching. But for audition purposes? Who cares? Say the thing. (By no coincidence, this is also a rule of Improv. Say it. Don’t dick around. Say the thing.)
Say. The. Thing.
Never save the best for last. They stop watching by then. And the best isn’t always the laugh. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. If you create a piece that Says the Thing and is also a big punchline? GOLD, Jerry! Gold.
For reference, here is the episode. All of these lines occur within the first ten minutes.
Now, you may be thinking, where the hell do I find this magical text?
Sources for Contemporary Work:
1. When searching for a piece, take a look at recent play anthologies. Humana Festival. Best New Plays. One Acts. They are guaranteed to be contemporary and you run almost zero risk of someone bringing in the same piece. Also check out playwright organizations and playwright-centric theatres.
In my posts You Need a Hero, Stop Look and Listen: Best Practices, and Contemporary Musical Theatre, I cover a lot of strategies that are absolutely just as effective for monologues and plays as they are for songs and musicals. To review:
2. Pick actors that are in your age range whose work you enjoy. Mine their resumes for roles and plays that you can utilize to create contemporary comedic monologues. Check out ibdb.com for a good start.
3. Go see shows. Expose yourself to what is truly “contemporary.”
4. Read plays. Lots of them. Look for characters that pique your interest. Find a playwright whose work you adore.
Fall in love, y’all. Because love is nothing if not hilarious.
XO,
Your Audition Coach
P.S. For further ruminating on preparing a monologue, check out my post The Down and Dirty Guide to Monologue Prep.
I’m very interested in the idea of innovation as it applies to life in the creative arts, performance in particular. This is something I’m sort of jamming on today in my brain, so I thought I might put it out there for everyone:
If you were just starting out in your career today with no knowledge of “how it’s done”, BUT with all other life experience intact, how would you start? What would you do? If the “way it’s done” or the common practice was not available to you, how would you make it happen?
Imagine absolutely no such thing as “supposed to” or “well-rounded.” Just you, what you do best, and an open road. How would you proceed? No rules. No past. Just your way. What would you do?
A little mental jazz for you.
And yes, the title is from Potter.
Rock on,
E
Authentic Auditioning 