How Theater Builds Executive Presence
This is the eleventh post in Authentalk’s series about how to write subject matter-specific speeches. Call it Thespiain.
Performing in Shanghai (2023).
When I was eight years old, I got a polite compliment from Jason Alexander.
I was in a youth production of The Music Man, playing Winthrop. That character was a young boy with a lisp who overcomes his insecurity to become a performer. I was a young boy with rhotacism, trying to overcome my insecurity while I performed.
Jason Alexander’s son was also in the production, so he came to watch the show; he did a good job with “Shipoopi.” I remember Jason Alexander telling me that he thought I had “stage presence.”
Over the next 26 years, I kept performing on TV, stage, and radio; in courthouses, classrooms, and speech and debate venues all over the country. And the more I performed, the more I understood what stage presence actually means.
Good stage presence is a tightrope walk. Too little, and you disappear. Too much, and you become unbearable. Land somewhere between spellbinding passion and subtle sincerity.
When I work with executives on “executive presence,” I often bring them back to theater.
Executive presence means you can hold a room’s attention. People listen when you speak, they believe you know what you are saying, they hang on the important words. You can walk right up to the edge of theatricality without tumbling into melodrama.
Practice your executive presence by refining your stage presence.
I’ve gathered 20 monologues from some of my favorite plays. Some are comedic, some are dramatic, some are old, some are modern.
A great monologue teaches you how to think like a speaker, not just a reader.
Here’s a roadmap.
Read the monologue once without stopping.
Look up the context. Who is speaking? Who are they speaking to? What do they want? What just happened before this moment?
Make sure you understand every word.
Deliver the monologue normally. No big acting choices yet.
Mark up the text. Bold words you want to emphasize. Italicize words you want to soften. Add a slash where you want to pause.
Perform it again with the key in mind.
Add gestures and movement. Record this version. Then play it back with the volume off. Ask yourself: can I still understand the emotional shape of the scene from my face and body?
Compare your version to great performers. Search for famous versions on YouTube, TV, or film. Watch what they do.
Then perform it again!
Check out these monologues below! Send the performances you’re most proud of. Please note that ‘NSFW’ monologues contain profanity.
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TARTUFFE
Yes, brother, I am wicked, I am guilty,
A miserable sinner, steeped in evil,
The greatest criminal that ever lived.
Each moment of my life is stained with soilures;
And all is but a mass of crime and filth;
Heaven, for my punishment, I see it plainly,
Would mortify me now. Whatever wrong
They find to charge me with, I’ll not deny it
But guard against the pride of self-defence.
Believe their stories, arm your wrath against me,
And drive me like a villain from your house;
I cannot have so great a share of shame
But what I have deserved a greater still. -
LUCIFER: A superior?! Superior?!
No! By heaven, which he
Holds, and the abyss, and the immensity
Of worlds and life, which I hold with him—No!
I have a Victor—true; but no superior.
Homage he has from all—but none from me:
I battle it against him, as I battled
In highest Heaven—through all Eternity,
And the unfathomable gulfs of Hades,
And the interminable realms of space,
And the infinity of endless ages,
All, all, will I dispute! And world by world,
And star by star, and universe by universe,
Shall tremble in the balance, till the great
Conflict shall cease, if ever it shall cease,
Which it ne'er shall, till he or I be quenched!
And what can quench our immortality,
Or mutual and irrevocable hate?
He as a conqueror will call the conquered
Evil, but what will be the Good he gives?
Were I the victor, his works would be deemed
The only evil ones. And you, ye new
And scare-born mortals, what have been his gifts
To you already, in your little world?
But few; and some of those but bitter.
Back with me, then, to thine earth, and try the rest
Of his celestial boons to you and yours.
Evil and Good are things in their own essence,
And not made good or evil by the Giver;
But if he gives you good—so call him; if
Evil springs from him, do not name it mine,
Till ye know better its true fount; and judge
Not by words, though of Spirits, but the fruits
Of your existence, such as it must be.
One good gift has the fatal apple given—
Your reason: — let it not be overswayed
By tyrannous threats to force you into faith
'Gainst all external sense and inward feeling:
Think and endure, — and form an inner world
In your own bosom — where the outward fails;
So shall you nearer be the spiritual
Nature, and war triumphant with your own. -
SCROOGE: What else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon Merry Christmas! What’s Christmas time to you, but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books; and having every item in ‘em through a dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas” on his lips should be boiled in his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!
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NORA: You have never loved me. You have only thought it pleasant to be in love with me. It is perfectly true, Torvald. When I was at home with papa, he told me his opinion about everything, and so I had the same opinions; and if I differed from him I concealed the fact, because he would not have liked it. He called me his doll-child, and he played with me just as I used to play with my dolls. And when I came to live with you--I mean that I was simply transferred from papa's hands into yours. You arranged everything according to your own taste, and so I got the same tastes as your else I pretended to, I am really not quite sure which--I think sometimes the one and sometimes the other. When I look back on it, it seems to me as if I had been living here like a poor woman--just from hand to mouth. I have existed merely to perform tricks for you, Torvald. But you would have it so. You and papa have committed a great sin against me. It is your fault that I have made nothing of my life.
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CYRANO: You might have said at least a hundred things
By varying the tone….like this, suppose…
Aggressive: 'Sir, if I had such a nose I'd amputate it!'
Friendly: 'When you sup It must annoy you, dipping in your cup;
You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!'
Descriptive: ''Tis a rock!. . .a peak!. . .a cape!
A cape, forsooth! 'Tis a peninsular!'
Curious: 'How serves that oblong capsular?
For scissor-sheath? Or pot to hold your ink?'
Gracious: 'You love the little birds, I think?
I see you've managed with a fond research
To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!'
Truculent: 'When you smoke your pipe. . .suppose
That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose--
Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher,
Cry terror-struck: "The chimney is afire"?'
Considerate: 'Take care,. . .your head bowed low
By such a weight. . .lest head o'er heels you go!'
Tender: 'Pray get a small umbrella made,
Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!'
Pedantic: 'That beast Aristophanes Names Hippocamelelephantoles
Must have possessed just such a solid lump
Of flesh and bone, beneath his forehead's bump!'
Cavalier: 'The last fashion, friend, that hook?
To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!'
Emphatic: 'No wind, O majestic nose,
Can give THEE cold!--save when the mistral blows!'
Dramatic: 'When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!'
Admiring: 'Sign for a perfumery!'
Lyric: 'Is this a conch?. . .a Triton you?'
Simple: 'When is the monument on view?'
Rustic: 'That thing a nose? Marry-come-up!
'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!'
Military: 'Point against cavalry!'
Practical: 'Put it in a lottery!
Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize!'
Or. . .parodying Pyramus' sighs. . .
'Behold the nose that mars the harmony
Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!'
--Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said,
Had you of wit or letters the least jot:
But, O most lamentable man!--of wit
You never had an atom, and of letters
You have three letters only!--they spell Ass!
And--had you had the necessary wit,
To serve me all the pleasantries I quote
Before this noble audience. . .e'en so,
You would not have been let to utter one--
Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest!
I take them from myself all in good part,
But not from any other man that breathes! -
LINDA LOMAN: I don't say he's a great man. Willie Loman never made a lot of money. His name was never in the paper. He's not the finest character that ever lived. But he's a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He's not to be allowed to fall in his grave like an old dog. Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.
A lot of people think he's lost his-balance. But you don't have to be very smart to know what his trouble is. The man is exhausted!
A small man can be just as exhausted as a great man. -
PROCTOR: You have all witnessed it—it is enough. You have all witnessed it; what more is needed? No—no I have signed it. You have seen me. It is done! You have no need for this. Damn the village! I confess to God and God has seen my name on this! It is enough! You came to save my soul, did you not? Here—I have confessed myself, it is enough! I have confessed myself! Is there no good penitence but it be public? God does not need my name nailed upon the church! God sees my name, God knows how black my sins are! It is enough. You will not use me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba, I am John Proctor! You will not use me! I have three children—how may I teach them to walk like men in the world and I sold my friends? I blacken all of them when this is nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence! You are the high court, your word is good enough! Tell them I confessed myself, say Proctor broke his knees and wept like a woman, say what you will, but my name cannot… I mean to deny nothing. Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life. Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul, leave me my name!
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JUROR #3: Well I’ve got a kid. He’s twenty. We did everything for that boy and what happened? When he was nine he ran away from a fight. I was so ashamed I almost threw up. So I told him right out. “I’m gonna make a man outa you or I’m gonna bust you in half trying.” Well, I made a man outa him all right. When he was sixteen we had a battle. He hit me in the face. He’s big, y’know. I haven’t seen him in two years. Rotten kid. You work your heart out… All right. Let’s get on with it.
Now listen to me. I’ve seen all kinds of dishonesty in my day – but this little display takes the cake. You come in here with your sanctimonious talk about slum kids and injustice, and you make up some wild stories, and all of a sudden you start getting through to some of these little old ladies in here. Well, you’re not getting through to me. I’ve had enough. What’s the matter with you people? -
ANNE SULLIVAN: Cleanliness is next to nothing, she has to learn that everything has its name! That words can be her eyes, to everything in the world outside of her, and inside too, what is she without words? With them she can think, have ideas, be reached, there’s not a thought or fact in the world that can’t be hers. You publish a newspaper, Captain Keller, do I have to tell you what words are? And she has them already, eighteen nouns and three verbs, they’re in her fingers now, I need only time to push one of them into her mind! One, and everything under the sun will follow. Don’t you see what she’s learned here is only clearing the way for that? I can’t risk her unlearning it, give me more time alone with her, another week to--
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BERENGER: (Pushing against the door.) He’s a rhinoceros, he’s a rhinoceros! I never would have thought it of him—never. (A RHINOCEROS HORN pierces the door. He runs to the door L., opens it and calls.) There’s a rhinoceros in the building! Get the police! (He goes through the doorway and crosses the front of the stage to R.) Porter, porter, there’s a rhinoceros in the house, get the police! Porter! (He crosses D. L. A RHINOCEROS HEAD appears in the corner D. L. TRUMPETING is heard off.) Another! (He runs across the front of the stage to R. A RHINOCEROS HEAD appears in the corner D. R.) Oh, my God! (He runs C.) My God! Oh, my God! (He looks out front as if from a window.) There’s a whole herd of them in the street now. (He looks around.) Where can I get out? Where can I get out? If only they’d keep to the middle of the road. They’re all over the pavement as well. Where can I get out? Where can I get out? (He runs distractedly into the room, goes to the window U. L. and looks out. The bathroom door continues to shake and JEAN continues to trumpet and hurl incomprehensible insults.) A whole herd of them. And they always said the rhinoceros was a solitary animal! It’s not true, that’s a conception they’ll have to revise! They’ve smashed up all the public benches. (He wrings his hands.) What’s to be done? (A RHINOCEROS HEAD is thrust through the window. BERENGER runs C. The bathroom door bursts open and a RHINOCEROS HEAD appears in the doorway. He yells.) Rhinoceros! (He jumps on to the bed.) Rhinoceros! (BERENGER throws himself against the back wall, which yields,—the street is visible in the background. He flees, shouting.)
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ATTICUS FINCH: One more thing, gentlemen, before I quit. Thomas Jefferson once said that all men are created equal, a phrase that the Yankees and the distaff side of the Executive branch in Washington are fond of hurling at us. There is a tendency in this year of grace, 1935, for certain people to use this phrase out of context, to satisfy all conditions. The most ridiculous example I can think of is that the people who run public education promote the stupid and idle along with the industrious—because all men are created equal, educators will gravely tell you, the children left behind suffer terrible feelings of inferiority. We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would have us believe—some people are smarter than others, some people have more opportunity because they’re born with it, some men make more money than others, some ladies make better cakes than others—some people are born gifted beyond the normal scope of most men.
But there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal—there is one human institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockefeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignorant man the equal of any college president. That institution, gentlemen, is a court. It can be the Supreme Court of the United States or the humblest J.P. court in the land, or this honorable court which you serve. Our courts have their faults, as does any human institution, but in this country our courts are the great levellers, and in our courts all men are created equal.
I’m no idealist to believe firmly in the integrity of our courts and in the jury system—that is no ideal to me, it is a living, working reality. Gentlemen, a court is no better than each man of you sitting before me on this jury. A court is only as sound as its jury, and a jury is only as sound as the men who make it up. I am confident that you gentlemen will review without passion the evidence you have heard, come to a decision, and restore this defendant to his family. In the name of God, do your duty.
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OSCAR: (Straightening up) Good. Because now I’m going to tell you off. For six months I lived alone in this apartment. All alone in eight rooms. I was dejected, despondent and disgusted. Then you moved in—my dearest and closest friend. And after three weeks of close, personal contact—I am about to have a nervous breakdown! Do me a favor. Move into the kitchen. Live with your pots, your pans, your ladle and your meat thermometer. When you want to come out, ring a bell and I’ll run into the bedroom. (Almost breaking down) I’m asking you nicely, Felix—as a friend. Stay out of my way!
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SALIERI: Extraordinary! On the page it looked nothing. The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse - bassoons and basset horns - like a rusty squeezebox. Then suddenly - high above it - an oboe, a single note, hanging there unwavering, till a clarinet took over and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight! This was no composition by a performing monkey! This was a music I'd never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing, it had me trembling. It seemed to me that I was hearing a voice of God.
But why? Why? Would God choose an obscene child to be His instrument? It was not to be believed! This piece had to be an accident. It had to be.
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BLAKE: A-B-C. A-always, B-be, C-closing. Always be closing! Always be closing!! A-I-D-A. Attention, interest, decision, action. Attention -- do I have your attention? Interest -- are you interested? I know you are because it's fuck or walk. You close or you hit the bricks! Decision -- have you made your decision for Christ?!! And action. A-I-D-A; get out there!! You got the prospects comin' in; you think they came in to get out of the rain? Guy doesn't walk on the lot unless he wants to buy. Sitting out there waiting to give you their money! Are you gonna take it? Are you man enough to take it
You see this watch? You see this watch? That watch cost more than your car. I made $970,000 last year. How much you make? You see, pal, that's who I am. And you're nothing. Nice guy? I don't give a shit. Good father? Fuck you -- go home and play with your kids!! You wanna work here? Close!! You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can't take this -- how can you take the abuse you get on a sit?! You don't like it -- leave. I can go out there tonight with the materials you got, make myself fifteen thousand dollars! Tonight! In two hours! Can you? Can you? Go and do likewise! A-I-D-A!! Get mad! You sons of bitches! Get mad!! You know what it takes to sell real estate? It takes brass balls to sell real estate.
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ROSE: I been standing with you! I been right here with you, Troy. I got a life too. I gave eighteen years of my life to stand in the same spot with you. Don’t you think I ever wanted other things? Don’t you think I had dreams and hopes? What about my life? What about me? Don’t you think it ever crossed my mind to want to know other men? That I wanted to lay up somewhere and forget about my responsibilities? That I wanted someone to make me laugh so I could feel good? You not the only one who’s got wants and needs. But I held on to you, Troy. I took all my feelings, my wants and needs, my dreams…and I buried them inside you. I planted a seed and watched and prayed over it. I planted myself inside you and waited to bloom. And it didn’t take me no eighteen years to find out the soil was hard and rocky and it wasn’t never gonna bloom. But I held on to you, Troy. I held you tighter. You was my husband. I owed you everything I had. Every part of me I could find to give you. And upstairs in that room…with the darkness falling in on me…I gave everything I had to try and erase the doubt that you wasn’t the finest man in the world. And wherever you was going…I wanted to be there with you. Cause you was my husband. Cause that’s the only way I was gonna survive as your wife. You always talking about what you give…and what you don’t have to give. But you take, too. You take…and don’t even know nobody’s giving!
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JESSUP: You can't handle the truth!
Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know -- that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives; and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives.
You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall -- you need me on that wall.
We use words like "honor," "code," "loyalty." We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line.
I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it.
I would rather that you just said "thank you" and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand the post. Either way, I don't give a DAMN what you think you're entitled to!
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CAROL: The issue here is not what I “feel.” It is not my “feelings,” but the feelings of women. And men. Your superiors, who’ve been “polled,” do you see? To whom evidence has been presented, and who have ruled, do you see? Who have weighed the testimony and the evidence, and have ruled, do you see? That you are negligent. That you are guilty, that you are found wanting, and in error; and are not, for the reasons so-told, to be given tenure. That you are to be disciplined. For facts. For facts. Not “alleged,” what is the word? But proved. Do you see? By your own actions. That is what the tenure committee has said. That is what my lawyer said. For what you did in class. For what you did in this office. They’re going to discharge you. As full well they should. You don’t understand? You’re angry? What has led you to this place? Not your sex. Not your race. Not your class. YOUR OWN ACTIONS. And you’re angry. You ask me here. What do you want? You want to “charm” me. You want to “convince” me. You want me to recant. I will not recant. Why should I…? What I say is right. You tell me, you are going to tell me that you have a wife and child. You are going to say that you have a career and that you’ve worked for twenty years for this. Do you know what you’ve worked for? Power. For power. Do you understand? And you sit there, and you tell me stories. About your house, about all the private schools, and about privilege, and how you are entitled. To buy, to spend, to mock, to summon. All your stories. All your silly weak guilt, it’s all about privilege; and you won’t know it. Don’t you see? You worked for twenty years for the right to insult me. And you feel entitled to be paid for it.
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NIXON: That's our tragedy, you and I, Mr. Frost. No matter how high we get, they still look down at us.
Now come on. No matter how many awards or column inches are written about you, or how high the elected office is, it's still not enough. We still feel like the little man. The loser. They told us we were a hundred times, the smart asses in college, the high ups. The well-born. The people who's respect we really wanted. Really craved. And isn't that why we work so hard now, why we fight for every inch? Scrambling our way up in undignified fashion. If we're honest for a minute, if we reflect privately, just for a moment, if we allow ourselves a glimpse into that shadowy place we call our soul, isn't that why we're here? Now? The two of us. Looking for a way back into the sun. Into the limelight. Back onto the winner's podium. Because we can feel it slipping away. We were headed, both of us, for the dirt. The place the snobs always told us that we'd end up. Face in the dust, humiliated all the more for having tried. So pitifully hard. Well, to hell with that! We're not going to let that happen, either of us. We're going to show those bums, we're going to make 'em choke on our continued success. Our continued headlines! Our continued awards! And power! And glory! We are gonna make those mother fuckers choke!
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BLACK STACHE: Perchance you think a treasure trunk sans treasure has put my piratical BVDs in a twist? How wrong you are. Yes, I’d hoped to be hip-deep in diamonds, but they’re a poor substitute for what I really crave: a bona fide hero to help me feel whole. For without a hero, what am I? Half a villain; a pirate in part; ruthless, but toothless.
And then I saw you, and I thought, “Maybe? Can it be? Is he the one I’ve waited for? Would he, for example, give up something precious for the sake of the daughter he loves?” But alas, he gives up sand. Now, let’s see: hero with treasure, very good. Hero with no treasure…. doable. No hero and a trunk full o’ sand? Not s’much. NOW, WHERE’S MY TREASURE?!"
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FRANCIS: (Aside.) I’ve got two jobs, how did that happen? You got to concentrate ain’t ya, with two jobs. Kaw! I can do it, long as I don’t get confused. But I get confused easily.
I don’t get confused that easily. Yes I do. I’m my own worst enemy. Stop being negative. I’m not being negative. I’m being realistic. I’ll screw it up. I always do. Who screws it up? You, you’re the role model for village idiots everywhere. Me?! You’re nothing without me. You’re the cock up! Don’t call me a cock up, you cock up!
(He slaps himself.) You slapped me!? Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.
(He punches himself back.) That hurt. Good. You started it.
A fight breaks out, where he ends up on the floor, and going over tables.
