Best Film Speeches and Monologues
||Film Title/Year and Description of Film Speech/Monologue
The Hours (2002)
Screenwriter(s): David Hare
In the concluding scene after learning of her
grown AIDS-stricken son's suicide, Laura Brown (Julianne Moore)
recalled to New Yorker Clarissa Vaughan (Meryl Streep) how
in the 1950s, she was a troubled Los Angeles housewife who
made a choice to escape from an unhappy marriage. Thinking
that she would at first commit suicide, she then made a conscious
decision (she had "no choice") to abandon her family
after her second child (a daughter) was born, in order to maintain
There are times when you don’t belong
and you think you’re going to kill yourself. Once
I went to a hotel. Later that night, I made a plan. The
plan was I would leave my family when my second child was
born. And that’s what I did. I got up one morning,
made breakfast, went to the bus stop, got on a bus. I’d
left a note. I got a job in a library in Canada. It would
be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy.
But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when
you have no choice? It's what you can bear. There it is.
No one's going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life.
The Laramie Project (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Moises Kaufman
Give You Life in the Memory of Someone Who No Longer Lives"
Play clip (excerpt):
In the trial courtroom, father Dennis Shepard
(Terry Kinney) read a tribute to his dead son Matthew Shepard,
who in 1998 was brutally kidnapped, beaten and tied to a fence
post in Laramie, Wyoming, and left to die. He waived the death
penalty for the perpetrators, claiming it was "the time
to begin the healing process":
My son, Matthew did not look like a winner.
He was rather uncoordinated and wore braces from the age
of 13 until the day he died. However, in his all-too-brief
life, he proved that he was a winner. On October 6th, 1998,
my son tried to show the world that he could win again.
On October 12th, 1998, my first born son and my hero lost.
On October 12th, 1998, my first born son and my hero died,
50 days before his 22nd birthday.
I keep wondering the same thing that I did
when I first saw him in the hospital. What would he have
become? How could he have changed his piece of the world
to make it better? Matt officially died in a hospital in
Fort Collins, Colorado. He actually died on the outskirts
of Laramie, tied to a fence. You, Mr. McKinney, with your
friend Mr. Henderson, left him there by himself. But he was
not alone. There were his lifelong friends with him, friends
that he had grown up with.
You're probably wondering who
these friends were. First, he had the beautiful night sky and the
same stars and moon we used to see through a telescope. Then
he had the daylight and the sun to shine on him. And through
it all, he was breathing in the scent of the pine trees from
the snowy range. He heard the wind, the ever-present Wyoming
wind for the last time. He had one more friend with him.
He had God. And I feel better, knowing he wasn't alone.
beating, hospitalization, and funeral focused worldwide attention
on hate. Good is coming out of evil. People have said, 'Enough
I miss my son, but I am proud to be able to
say that he was my son. Judy has been quoted as being against
the death penalty. It has been stated that Matt was against
the death penalty. Both of these statements are wrong. I
too believe in the death penalty. I would like nothing better
than to see you die, Mr. McKinney.
However, this is the time
to begin the healing process, to show mercy to someone who
refused to show any mercy. (crying) Mr. McKinney, I am going
to grant you life, as hard as it is to do so, because of Matthew.
Everytime you celebrate Christmas, a birthday, the 4th of July,
remember that Matt isn't. Everytime you wake up in your
prison cell, remember you had the opportunity and the ability
to stop your actions that night. You robbed me of something
very precious and I will never forgive you for that. Mr.
McKinney, I give you life in the memory of someone who no
longer lives. May you have a long life. And may you thank
Matthew everyday for it.
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Stephen Sinclair, Peter
Schizo-phrenic Monologue with Himself
Smeagol (aka Gollum) (Andy Serkis) - originally
a Hobbit, was a withered and piteous creature living in the
caves beneath the Misty Mountains, who was driven mad and twisted
by his loss of the One Ring (his 'precious') decades earlier
in Middle-Earth. He found the Ring in Frodo Baggins's (Elijah
Wood) possession and became his guide to return the ring to
Mordor (to be placed in the fires of Mount Doom where it was
In a nighttime scene while the two Hobbits Frodo
(with the ring in his possession) and Sam (Sean Astin) were
asleep, Gollum/Smeagol crouched nearby and talked to his original,
sweet alter-ego Smeagol, who eventually banished his evil half
- Gollum - from his personality:
Gollum: (with an evil expression)
We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious. They
stole it from us. Sneaky little Hobbitses. Wicked. Tricksy.
Smeagol: (sweetly) No. Not master.
Gollum: Yes, precious. False. They will cheat you, hurt you,
Smeagol: Master's my friend!
Gollum: You don't have any friends. Nobody likes you!
Smeagol: (covering his ears) Not listening, I'm not
Gollum: You're a liar and a thief.
Smeagol: Go away!
Gollum: Go away? (Gollum laughed manically as Smeagol
Smeagol: I hate you, I hate you.
Gollum: Where would you be without me? Gollum! Gollum! I
saved us! It was me! We survived because of me! (Smeagol
Smeagol: Not anymore.
Gollum: What did you say?
Smeagol: Master looks after us now. We don't need you.
Smeagol: Leave now, and never come back!
Smeagol: LEAVE NOW AND NEVER COME BACK! (Gollum growled
back in frustration) LEAVE NOW AND NEVER COME BACK! (Silence)
(Smeagol hesitated and looked around, then realized that
Gollum had left, and he began to dance and jump around)
We told him to go away. And away he goes, precious! Gone!
Gone! Gone! Smeagol is free!
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Fran Walsh, Philippa
Boyens, Stephen Sinclair, Peter Jackson
Some Good in This World...And It's Worth Fighting For"
On a quest to destroy the One Ring at Mordor
with hobbit Frodo Baggins (Elijah Wood) who was ready to give
up, his loyal companion Samwise Gamgee (Sean Astin) reflected
on how their story might have a happy ending, even though they
had already faced so much adversity. He insisted that they
must continue and hold onto what they were fighting for:
I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't
even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories,
Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness
and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to
know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could
the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had
happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this
shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And
when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. Those
were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something,
even if you were too small to understand why. And I think,
Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories
had lots of chances of turnin' back, only they didn't.
They kept going. Because they were holdin' on to something.
Frodo asked: "What are we holdin' onto,
Sam?" to which Sam replied:
That there's some good in this world, Mr.
Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.
Minority Report (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Scott Frank, Jon Cohen
Possible Life for His Son
Precog Agatha (Samantha Morton) gave a heartbreaking
and beautiful description of the possible life for Chief John
Anderton's (Tom Cruise) son named Sean, while she smiled and
cried at the same time:
Sean... He's on the beach now, a toe in the
water. He's asking you to come in with him. He's been racing
his mother up and down the sand. There's so much love in
this house. He's ten years old. He's surrounded by animals.
He wants to be a vet. You keep a rabbit for him, a bird
and a fox. He's in high school. He likes to run, like his
father. He runs the two-mile and the long relay. He's 23.
He's at a university. He makes love to a pretty girl named
Claire. He asks her to be his wife. He calls here and tells
Lara, who cries. He still runs across the university and
in the stadium, where John watches. Oh God, he's running
so fast, just like his Daddy. He sees his Daddy. He wants
to run to him. But he's only six years old, and he can't
do it. And the other men are so fast. There was so much
love in this house.
Anderton responded to the touching vision, sobbing: "I
want him back so bad."
Agatha replied with reference to her
deceased mother Anne Lively (Jessica Harper), who had sold
Agatha as a young girl to Pre-Crime in order to pay for her
drug-addiction, and then had a change of heart and "wanted
her little girl back." [Later, it was revealed that Anne had
been murdered (by drowning) by the founder of the Pre-Crime
unit Lamar Burgess (Max von Sydow) who refused to allow Agatha's
release because it would destroy Pre-Crime.]:
Agatha: "So did
she. Can't you see? She just wanted her little girl back.
But it was too late. Her little girl was already gone."
Anderton: "She's still alive."
Agatha: "She didn't die, but she's
Anderton: "Agatha? Just tell me. Who
killed your mother? Who killed Anne Lively?"
Before answering, she had another warning - the
imminent assault by Pre-Crime cops: "I'm
sorry, John, but you're gonna have to run again...RUN!"
One Hour Photo (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Mark Romanek
Take Pictures of the Happy Moments In Their Lives"
As the film opened, lonely, pride-filled, dedicated
and creepily-dangerous psychopath Seymour "Sy"
Parrish (Robin Williams) was interrogated in a white walled room,
after pictures ("evidence") were found in his possession.
As Yorkin family photos at young son Jake's (Dylan Smith) birthday
party were being taken by his parents Will (Michael Vartan) and
Nina (Connie Nielsen), he delivered a dead-pan, voice-over description
of his fantasy views on picture-taking of idyllic family occasions:
Family photos depict smiling faces. Births.
Weddings. Holidays. Children's birthday parties. People
take pictures of the happy moments in their lives. Someone
looking through our photo album would conclude that we
had led a joyous, leisurely existence, free of tragedy.
No one ever takes a photograph of something they want to
During his typical workday - in voice-over -
he also described the importance of his 20 year-plus job at
a Savmart photo finishing mini-lab:
I've been doing P.O.S. mini-lab work for
over 20 years now. I consider it an important job. When
people's houses are on fire, what's the first thing they
save after their pets and their loved ones are safe? The
family photos. Some people think that this is a job for
a clerk. They actually believe that any idiot that attends
a two-day seminar can master the art of making beautiful
prints in less than an hour. Of course, like most things,
there's far more to it than meets the eye. I've seen the
prints they fop off on people at the Rexall or Fotek, milky
washed out prints, too dark prints. There's no sense of
reverence for the service they're providing for people.
I process these photos as if they were my own.
The Rules of Attraction (2002)
Screenwriter: Roger Avary
no longer know who I am."
In one of the lengthiest, and most rapid-fire
monologues ever recorded, Victor (Kip Pardue), a drama major
at Camden College (fictional) on the East Coast (New Hampshire),
and the shallow boyfriend of Lauren Hynde (Shannyn Sossamon),
hurriedly described his summer back-packing European vacation
(in voice-over) - a complete drug and sex-fest:
Took a charter flight on a DC-10 to London.
Landed at Heathrow. Took a cab to the city center. Don't
let people lie to you: hostels are for the ugly. I'm staying
in Home House, the most beautiful hotel in the world. Called
a friend from school who was selling hash, but she wasn't
in. Met a couple of Brits who take me to, of all places,
Camden Street. I flirt a bit at the Virgin Megastore, buy
some CDs, then follow some girls with pink hair. I wandered
around trying to get laid, until it started to rain, then
went back to Home House. Ministry of Sound is dead, so I
go to Remform - but it's Gay Night. I find the one hetero
girl in the place and we dry hump on the dance floor. We
cab it back to Home House. I strip her clothes off, suck
her toes, and we f--k. I hung out for four or five days.
Met the world's biggest DJ, Paul Oakenfold. Kept missing
the Changing of the Guards. Wrote my mom a postcard I never
sent. Bought some speed from an Italian junkie who was trying
to sell me a stolen bike. Smoked a lot of hash that had too
much tobacco in it. Saw the Tate. Saw Big Ben. Ate a lot
of weird English food. It rained a lot, it was expensive,
and I'm jonesing.
So, I split for Amsterdam. The Dutch
all know English, so I didn't have to speak any Dutch - which
was a relief. I cruise the Red Light District. Visit a sex
show. Visit a sex museum. Smoke a lot of hash. I meet a Dutch
TV actress and we drink absinthe at a bar called Absinthe.
The museums were cool, I guess. Lots of Van Goghs and the
Vermeers were intense. Wandered around. Bought a lot of pastries.
Ate some intense waffles. We bought some coke and I cruised
the Red Light District, until I found some blonde with big
tits that reminds me of Lara. I gave her a hundred guilders.
In the end, she pulls me out, and I cum between her tits,
even though I'm wearing a rubber. Afterward we made small-talk
about AIDS, her Moroccan pimp, and herself. I wake to the
sound of a wino singing. It's 8 AM and hot as blazes. I pretend
to ice-skate around Central Station, while someone plays
the sax. Trade songs with a Kiwi girl.
Then split for Paris
by train. Wander the Champs-Elysees. Climb the Eiffel Tower
for only seven francs, because the ticket machine was broken.
Got the hang of the Metro, took it everywhere. Went to a Ford
model party and hooked up with a Romanian model named Karina.
She chugs my cock at the Marriott Champs-Elysees, which is
good. We played billiards, went shopping. I think she gave
me mono. Drove a Ferrari that belonged to a member of the
Saudi royal family. Made out with a Dutch model in front
of the Louvre. Saw the Arc de Triomphe and almost became
road-kill crossing the street.
me to Dublin, so I catch an Aer Lingus flight and stay at
the Morrison. Dublin rocks like you can't imagine. Oakenfold
lets me spin some discs with him. Irish girls are as small
as leprechauns. I swap hickeys with a drunk woman. After
groping my abs and calling me "Mr.
L.A.", she strips for me in the bathroom of the club.
Sneak into the Guinness factory and steal some stout so good
my dick goes hard.
I fly to Barcelona, which was a low-rent
bust. Too many fat American students. Too many lame meat markets.
I dropped acid at the Sagrada Familia, which was a trip to
say the least. Cruise up the coast to the Museo Gala Dali,
but had no more acid, which sucked. Some girl from Camden calls
me on my cell, so I let her listen to the church bells in Cadaques.
Canta Cruz is beautiful, but there are no girls there, just
So, I went to Switzerland where I, ironically,
couldn't find anyone who had the time. Took the Glacier Express
up the Schilthorn, which is beautiful in a way I can't describe.
Euro Pass into Italy and ended up in Venice,
where I met a hot girl who looks like Rachael Leigh Cook
and speaks better English than I do. She's living for a year
on only five dollars a day. We gondola around, buy some masks.
She thinks I'm a capitalist, because my hotel room costs
more for one night than she's spending her entire trip. But
she doesn't mind it so much when I pay the bills. I ditch
her and hook up with a couple who obviously want a threesome.
Too much tension there, but the doofus offers to drive me
to Rome, an offer I jump at. Traffic is bad and we're stopped
for hours without moving. The wife turns out to be a freak.
The guy starts to wig out on me. It's like a Polanski film.
We stop for a while in Florence, where I see some big dome.
A bomb goes off and I lose the weird couple, which is probably
for the best. Ended up in Rome, which is big and hot and
dirty. It was just like L.A., but with ruins. I went to the
Vatican, which was ridiculously opulent. Stood for two hours
to get into the Sistine Chapel, which - now that it's been
cleaned - looks fake. I meet two under-age Italian girls
who I try to talk into f--king
each other while I jack off onto them. Bored, I buy them some
ice cream instead. My hotel has a gym, so I work out. I bump
into some guy from Camden who says he knows me, but I'm sure
that he's a fag, so I lose him. I try to fart and instead s--t
my pants. Back in my hotel room, I masturbate and have a pain
in my groin. That night, I dream about a beautiful girl, half
in water, stretching her lean body. She asks me if I like it
and I tell her she can clean fish with it. I don't know what
it means, but I wake well-rested, masturbate in the shower,
and check out.
I make my way back to London and hang out
in Piccadilly Circus. Hmm. Palakon. I swap shirts with some
upper-crusty Cambridge chick. Hers was an Agnes B., mine a
Costume Nationale. She acts stuffy and prudish, but is really
wild underneath it all. She barely looks at my abs, though
she wants to. The next day, I drop some acid and get lost in
the subway for a full day and can't find my way out. I meet
a cute girl who lets me jack off onto her as long as no cum
gets onto her Paul Smith coat. We get stoned while listening
to Michael Jackson records and the next morning, I wake up
talking to myself. I have a big bump on my head from flailing
in my sleep.
I get my stuff and barely make my plane back
to the United States. I no longer know who I am and I feel
like the ghost of a total stranger.
25th Hour (2002)
Screenwriter(s): David Benioff
- A F-Bomb Rant Against Everybody and Everything, Including
Brooklyn drug dealer Monty Brogan (Edward Norton)
gave a profanity-rich bathroom mirror monologue - a long tirade
and rant against everybody and everything - in front of a mirror
with "F--k You!" written on it. It was delivered
during his last day of freedom before a 7-year prison term
for pushing heroin:
F--k me? F--k you! F--k you and this whole
city and everyone in it...
F--k the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at
me behind my back.
F--k the squeegee men dirtyin' up the clean windshield of
my car. Get a f--kin' job.
F--k the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues
in decrepit cabs, curry steamin' out their pores, stinkin'
up my day. Terrorists in f--kin' training. Slow the f--k
F--k the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped
up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my
piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
F--k the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced
fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten
years in the country, still no speaky English?
F--k the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sittin'
in cafés, sippin' tea in little glasses, sugar cubes
between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go
back where you f--king came from!
F--k the black-hatted Hasidim, strolling up and down 47th
Street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Sellin'
South African apartheid diamonds!
F--k the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the
universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother f--kers,
figurin' out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send
those Enron assholes to jail for F--KING LIFE! You think
Bush and Cheney didn't know about that s--t? Give me a fu--kin'
break! Tyco! ImClone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
F--k the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swellin' up the
welfare rolls, worst f--kin' parade in the city. And don't
even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make
the Puerto Ricans look good....
F--k the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their
nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swingin'
their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying
to audition for 'The Sopranos.'
F--k the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves
and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Over-fed faces
getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny.
You're not foolin' anybody, sweetheart!
F--k the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they
don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every
lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and
blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred
and thirty seven years ago. Move the f--k on!
F--k the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers
and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence.
You betray our trust!
F--k the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's
F--k the church that protects them, delivering us into evil.
And while you're at it, f--k J.C.! He got off easy! A day
on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs
of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in f--kin'
F--k Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling
fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent
thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity
with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire
in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal
F--k Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent.
F--k Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me
while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
F--k Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed
me in the back, sold me up the river, f--kin' bitch.
F--k my father with his endless grief, standing behind that
bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and
cheering the Bronx Bombers.
F--k this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses
of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects
in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in
Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels
in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires
rage, let it burn to f--kin' ash and then let the waters
rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.
After pausing, he included himself as the most
major f--k-up of all:
No. No, f--k you, Montgomery Brogan. You
had it all, and you threw it away, you Dumb F--k!
He attempted to rub away the "F--K YOU" written
on the mirror.
We Were Soldiers (2002)
Screenwriter(s): Randall Wallace
Will Leave No One Behind"
Play clip (excerpt):
Lieutenant General (Ret.) Hal Moore (Mel Gibson)
vowed to his 7th Cavalry Regiment in a speech delivered in
an outdoor high school football stadium. Just before being
shipped out to Vietnam for combat in 1965, Moore promised that
he would proudly stand by his men and bring everyone home,
one way or the other:
Look around you. In the 7th Cavalry, we
got a Captain from the Ukraine. Another from Puerto Rico.
We've got Japanese, Chinese, Blacks, Hispanics, Cherokee
Indians, Jews and Gentiles - all Americans. Now here in
the States, some men in this unit may experience discrimination
because of race or creed. But for you and me now, all that
is gone. We're moving into the 'valley of the shadow of
death' - where you will watch the back of the man next
to you, as he will watch yours. And you won't care what
color he is or by what name he calls God.
They say we're leavin' home. We're goin' to
what home was always supposed to be. So let us understand
the situation. We are goin' into battle against a tough and
determined enemy. I can't promise you that I will bring you
all home alive. But this I swear before you and before Almighty
God that when we go into battle, I will be the first to set
foot on the field, and I will be the last to step off. And
I will leave no one behind. Dead or alive, we will all come
home together. So help me God.