Monolouges, Acting, and Stanislavski


The word means behold.

And did we live up to the name of the showcase?  It certainly was a night to beheld (no, not funny?).

Whatever the case, it was a journey for me.  Did I grow as an actor?  Yes.  Did I grow as a person?  Obviously.

For my piece, I chose an excerpt from A Chorus Line, and if you’ve ever watched A Chorus Line, you’ll know that each individual dancer has a monologue to their name.  I performed the piece by Valarie Clark – you know, the one that sings Dance: Ten, Looks: Three, or maybe you’d know it as Tits and Ass.  Whatever the case, that’s who I was.  For those few minutes on stage – that was who I was.

There were a couple of things, however, hindering me.  I have to admit, and I do so blatantly – that in the end, even on the stage, I refused to completely be Val – and that’s because she’s kind of a major bitch, and I don’t want to be a bitch, or rather, I try not to be.  And yet, I chose this character.

So I ask myself, then, why?

I chose her exactly for the reason I wasn’t ready to be her.  I wanted to get out of my comfort zone.  Perhaps I just wasn’t ready to be that out of my comfort zone – to go full on bitch mode.

It pricked when my teacher told me I didn’t have the ego to play Val.  Ironically that was the moment I thought to myself: I have the fucking ego to play anyone.

But for the oddest reason, I just couldn’t translate that into Val.  I lost confidence in myself.  My movements were awkward – I just couldn’t step into another person like I usually did.

Until the next day, when my ankle happily decided to get itself twisted in the most horrible fashion.  That caused me to be bound in a chair for my monologue, in the end, and to be completely honest, it might’ve been a blessing in disguise.  Because of my injury, I was 2000% done with life, because first of all, I was resistive against my character, and now I couldn’t even try because I was in a chair.

And that helped – it really did.

There was a new kind of drive, a new intention and motivation of my character.

In the end, at the end of the night, I was disappointed I couldn’t keep myself together just for those few minutes to be someone else.  I really am.  I still am, rather.  But there’s a learning point, I guess.  It’s something I’m still trying to work on – to live without regrets.  I just need to keep trying.

I’m still on my way to becoming a great actor.  And I’m not even good yet.  Stanislavski – I will heed your words more carefully next time.  I promise.