NEW Bright Star Monologues Added!

Monologues

Please prepare one of the following monologues. The following monologues are chosen from the script, with some piecing together of separate lines. Along with context from the script, be sure to bring your own talent, interpretation, and passion to your audition. Don’t worry about choosing a monologue that fits with your own gender identity or the part you would like to have, choose the one that best showcases your abilities!

BILLY: Mama, when I was in mud up to my knees, I thought it would be you mourning me. Not this way round. And I’m sorry that daddy put an angel over your grave. You used to make fun of people for doing that. You said you’d rather let your deeds speak for your time on Earth. Mama, thank you for the way you raised me. The way you spoke, your parlance around the house, made me a curious lover of words, and you always pointed me toward the writers who used them well. Remember when you had me copy stories out of the Asheville Southern Journal, just so I’d know what it feels like to write well? I made it back home like you always said I would. But I never thought homecoming could be so cruel.

YOUNG ALICE: Now that’s a sight. The mayor’s son with his sleeves rolled up repairing an ice box. Jimmy Ray, an ice box has no moving parts. My granny could repair an ice box. There’s ice and a box. I think you’re just showing off your muscles. You remind me of Adonis. You know who Adonis is? Well, you remind me of him. In fact, you remind me of the myth of Adonis when he repaired the ice box. I entered an essay contest in Raleigh. The first prize was five dollars, and I won it. I wrote about how there should be a rebirth of Southern writers, all writing about the Southern way, and that’s how we can make our voices known. I took that five dollars and put it toward my college fund. (Picks up book) F. Scott Fitzgerald. He’s a new writer. I know who he is. “The Beautiful and the Damned.” Is that us, Jimmy Ray? If my Daddy sees the title, he’ll kill me. So, who you gonna take to the Couples’ Day dance? Well, I’m standing right here in front of you. I read in a book that sometimes you have to plant an idea in a boy’s head.

YOUNG JIMMY RAY: Sorry Daddy, I was out fixing Aunt Idell’s icebox. This is my application for college. I’ve been thinking about it. Well, Daddy, I understand, but I thought we’d discussed this. There’s a whole world outside Zebulon. I want to get to know it. You want me to marry someone for her trucks. I couldn’t do that. That’s not the way I was raised. Where’s the romance in that? Besides I know their daughter. She’s a dumbbell. I’ve met her. She is indistinguishable from the horses. Daddy, I couldn’t carry on a conversation with any of them. And that is a tragedy.

ALICE: Like I said, here are your stories back. Except this one, which I’m buying from you for ten dollars. I am not publishing it, but I am investing in you. You have a flair, Mr. Cane. Not for the scourge of war, but for gentleness and tenderness, and also the well-timed lie. You write well. I don’t have time to hand out compliments I don’t mean. But you will write better when you find your voice. You need to find a sweeping tale of pain and redemption. In the people you know and in the people you meet. 

ALICE: You married? … I guess I would have heard. I followed you… We were so young. When I came to Raleigh today, it wasn’t my intention to see you. I was at the hall of records. With the same woman who had been there for twenty years. And I asked if anyone else had looked for the whereabouts of our child. And she said not one person. Not you. And you never came to see me

DADDY MURPHY: Through the years, reasonableness has laid its hand on my shoulder, and things I’ve done in the past don’t quite stand up like they used to. That had to be the most painful day of your life. It was, wasn’t it, sweetheart. It was. Well, if shame could ever equal pain, I would say I know how you feel. Because what I did that day made it the most shameful day of my life. I believe that was the last day my own daddy still had hold of me. How I felt after that helped me purge him from me. I don’t ask for forgiveness...No, Alice, I cannot even forgive myself. I wonder what happened to the boy. Do you know, Alice? 

MARGO: You’ve been sending me your stories from overseas, and I’ve got a stack of them all edited. You can come by the bookstore and pick them up.  I read the story you sent me. It started out great . . . Then it got better and better! You’ve grown up and so has your writing. Now, I caught a few typos and retyped it on heavy bond. In fact, I retyped them all! You said you were coming over here with a surprise. And it’s your new address In Asheville. Oh Billy, that’s so exciting! A real adventure. Of course. You’re going to need someone to cash that check. If you frame it, you can’t cash it. When you get to Asheville, write to me if you will. Tell me how you’re doing.  For what’s it’s worth, (he’s gone) I’ll miss you

LUCY: When I was twelve, I gave my father a Raymond Chandler mystery novel. I was watching him read it and suddenly, his face went the color of a rose. He set the book face down and called for my mother and took her into another part of the house and shut the door. I went over to the book to see what he had just read, and right there in the middle of the page was the word “brassiere.” I thought, “this must never happen again.” So now, a few nights a week, I take a manuscript home, fix myself a Manhattan, and search for hidden erotic content. Would you like to do that with me sometime?