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Home , Babaloo Mandel, Charlie Kaufman, I Spy I Spy, Janis Ian, Jenny Lumet, Lowell Ganz

Movie Monologue Assignment Name______Intro to Theatre/Play Performance

Instructions:

1. Read the following movie monologues on the pages which follow and choose one monologue. 2. Memorize and rehearse that monologue for presentation to the class. 3. Complete a monologue analysis form on your performance piece below.

Monologue Analysis

Please write your answers to these questions in the space provided or on a separate sheet of paper. Please write answers in complete, grammatically-correct sentences.

TITLE______CHARACTER______

1. In detail, decribe the events of the monologue. Who is the characters involved? What other characters are present? Where are the characters as the scene begins? What is the conflict?

2. What does the character desire? (What is it that the character wants – think of it in terms of “at that moment” and “overall”.)

3. What is the character’s will (inner strength)? Is the character capable of getting what it is that he or she wants at that moment and overall?

4. Describe the character’s moral stand. What does the character believe is right and wrong? How far would the character go to get what it is that he or she wants?

5. How does the scene resolve itself? Has the conflict been solved, or has a new conflict developed?

6. What does the character look like? Include physical characteristics, dressing style, etc.

7. Draw the set for your scene, including any needed furniture and props that you might need.

MEN’S MONOLOGUES

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind written by Joel: Random Thoughts, for Valentine’s Day, 2004. The day's a holiday invented by greeting card companies, to make people feel like crap. I ditched work today. Took a train out to Montauk. I don't know why. I'm not an impulsive person. I guess I just woke up in a funk this morning. I have to get my car fixed. "Hi Sydney? It's Joel. Listen, I don't feel very well today. No. Food poisoning I think." It's freezing on this beach! Montauk in February. Brilliant, Joel. (referring to his sketchbook/journal) Pages are ripped out, don't remember doing that. It appears this is my first entry in two years. Sand is overrated. It's just tiny little rocks. If only I could meet someone new. I guess my chances of that are somewhat diminished, seeing as I'm incapable of making eye contact with a woman I don't know. Maybe I should get back together with Naomi. She was nice, nice is good. She loved me. Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?

Joe vs. the Volcano written by Joe: I should say something. This life... "life," what a joke. This situation, this room. You look terrible, Mr. Waturi. You look like a bag of crap stuffed in a cheap suit. Not that anybody could look under these zombie lights. I can feel them sucking the juice out of my eyeballs, suck suck suck suck. 300 bucks a week. That's the news. For three hundred bucks a week, I've lived in this sink, this waste dump. Don't you think I am aware there is a woman here? I can smell her, like a flower, I can taste her like sugar on my tongue. When I'm twenty feet away, I can hear the fabric of her dress when she moves in her chair. Not that I've done anything about it; I've gone all day -- every day, not doing, not saying, not taking the chance for three hundred dollars a week. And Frank! The coffee! It stinks! It tastes like arsenic. These lights give me a headache, if they don’t give you a headache, you must be dead. So let's arrange the funeral. Why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you, I can't imagine. But I know it's fear, yellow cowardice fear, I’ve been too afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hundred freaking dollars a week. You're lucky I don't kill you. You're lucky I don't rip your throat out. But I'm not going to. And maybe you're not so lucky at that. Because I'm going to leave you here, Mr. Wahoo Waturi. And what could be worse than that?! (pause, now addressing the secretary) Deedee, how about dinner tonight?

School of Rock written by Mike White Dewey Finn: You want me to teach you something? What? You want to learn something? Alright, here's a useful lesson: Give up! Just quit! Because in this life you can't win. Yeah, you can try, but in the end your just gonna loose, BIG TIME! Because the world is run by the man! Who? The man. Oh, you don't know the man? The man's everywhere: in the White House, down the hall, Miss Mullins; she's the man! And the man ruined the ozone, and he's burning down the Amazon and he kidnapped Shamu and put her in a chlorine tank! Okay! And there used to be a way to stick it to the man, it was called rock 'n roll. But guess what? Oh no! The man had to ruin that too with a little thing called MTV! So don't waste your time trying to make anything cool or pure or awesome 'cause the man's just gonna call you a fat washed up loser and crush your soul. So do yourself a favor and just give up!

The Sure Thing written by Stephen L. Bloom and Jonathan Roberts Gib: I'm flunkin' English. I – I was wondering if maybe you could help me out. I flunk English, I'm outta here. Kiss goodbye. I don't know what I'll do, I'll probably go home. Gee, Dad will be pissed off. Mom will be heartbroken, and if I play my cards right, I get MAYBE a six months' grace period and then I gotta get a job, and you know what that means. That's right, they me off at the drive-up window and I gradually work my way up from shakes to burgers, and then one day my lucky break comes: the french fry guy dies and they offer me the job. But the day I'm supposed to start some men come by in a black Lincoln Continental and tell me I can make a quick $300 just for driving a van back from Mexico. When I get out of jail I'm 36 years old. Living in a flop house. No job. No home. No upward mobility. Very few teeth. And then one day they find me, face down, talking to the gutter, clutching a bottle of paint thinner and why? Because you wouldn't help me in English. No, you were too busy to help me! Too busy to help a drowning man!

Used Cars written by Robert Zemeckis & Bob Gale Rudy Russo: (looking at a customer who is looking at a car) Oh, just browsing? Hey: Terrific. Terrific, Stan, that's what we're here for. Here you can look, browse, peek, touch, feel, taste, smell--do anything you want, take all the time you want. Nobody's gonna pressure anybody around here, Stan. You know something though, Stan? I really think you ought to buy this Buick. I think you ought to buy it today, right now, you wanna know why? 'Cause that Buick is You. The color is you. Look at it: That Is Your Car. Stanley Padowski IS Buick Centurion Convertible. Now, I know what you're thinkin' Stan. You're thinkin', "Can I afford to buy a car like this?" Huh? Am I right? Seriously, Stan, you can't afford NOT to buy a car like this. Now, I'm gonna make it easy for ya...You add this whole thing up, you take in account inflation rates, insurance savings, gas savings, ease and comfort, and you're gonna come out ten thousand dollars ahead just for making this deal--Well, Hell! The prestige alone at owning a Buick Centurion Convertible can't even be measured in terms of dollars and cents, am I right?

The American President written by President Shepherd: For the last couple of months, Senator Rumson has suggested that being President of this country was to a certain extent about character. And although, I have not been willing to engage in his attacks on me, I've been here, three years and three days, and I can tell you without hesitation, being President of this country, is entirely about character. For the record: yes, I am a card-carrying member of the ACLU, but the more important question is, 'Why aren't you, Bob?' Now this is an organization, whose sole purpose is to defend the Bill of Rights so it naturally begs the question: 'Why would a senator, his party's most powerful spokesman and a candidate for President, choose to reject upholding the Constitution?' Now if you can answer that question, folks, then you're smarter than I am because, I didn't understand it until, a few hours ago. America isn't easy. America, is advanced citizenship. You've gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say, "You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center-stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest." Now show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free. I've known Bob Rumson for years, and I'd been operating under the assumption that the reason Bob devotes so much time and energy to shouting at the rain was that he simply didn't get it. Well I was wrong, Bob's problem isn't that he doesn't get it; Bob's problem is that he can't sell it. We have serious problems to solve, and we need serious people to solve them. And whatever your particular problem is, I promise you, Bob Rumson is not the least bit interested in solving it. He is interested in two things, and two things only: making you afraid of it, and telling you who's to blame for it. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you win elections. You gather a group of middle-age, middle-class, middle-income voters who remember with longing an easier time and you talk to them about family and, American values and character, and you wave an old photo of the President's girlfriend and you scream about patriotism, you tell them, "She's to blame for their lot in life," and you go on television, and you call her a whore. Sydney Ellen Wade has done nothing to you, Bob. She has done nothing, but put herself through school, represent the interests of public school teachers and lobby for the safety of our natural resources. You want a character debate, Bob? You better stick with me, 'cause Sydney Ellen Wade is way out of your league. I've loved two women in my life. I lost one to cancer, and I lost the other 'cause I was so busy keeping my job, I forgot to do my job. Well that ends right now. Tomorrow morning, the White House is sending a bill to Congress for its consideration. It's White House Resolution 455, an energy bill, requiring a twenty percent reduction of the emission of fossil fuels over the next ten years. It is by far, the most aggressive stride ever taken, in the fight to reverse the effects of global warming. The other piece of legislation is the crime bill. As of today, it no longer exists--I'm throwing it out. I'm throwing it out and writing a law that makes sense. You cannot address crime prevention without getting rid of assault weapons and handguns. I consider them a threat to national security and I will go door to door if I have to--but I'm gonna convince Americans that I am right, and I'm gonna get the guns. We've got serious problems, and we need serious people. And if you want to talk about character, Bob, you better come at me with more than a burning flag and a membership card. If you want to talk about character and American values, fine. Just tell me where and when and I'll show up. This is a time for serious people, Bob, and your fifteen minutes are up. My name is Andrew Shepherd and I am the President.

City Slickers written by & Mitch: Value this time in your life kids, because this is the time in your life when you still have your choices, and it goes by so quickly. When you're a teenager you think you can do anything, and you do. Your twenties are a blur. Your thirties, you raise your family, you make a little money and you think to yourself, "What happended to my twenties?" Your forties, you grow a little pot belly you grow another chin. The music starts to get too loud and one of your old girlfriends from highschool becomes a grandmother. Your fifties you have a minor surgery. You'll call it a procedure, but it's a surgery. Your sixties you have a major surgery, the music is still loud but it doesn't matter because you can't hear it anyway. Seventies, you and the wife retire to Fort Lauderdale, you start eating dinner at two, lunch around ten, breakfast the night before. And you spend most of your time wandering around malls looking for the ultimate in soft yogurt and muttering "how come the kids don't call?" By your eighties, you've had a major stroke, and you end up babbling to some Jamaican nurse who your wife can't stand but who you call mama. Any questions?

Clerks written by Kevin Smith Randal: So they build another Death Star, right? Now the first one they built was completed and fully operational before the Rebels destroyed it. And the second one was still being built when they blew it up. Something just never sat right with me the second time they destroyed it. I could never put my finger on it-something just wasn't right. Well, the thing is, the first Death Star was manned by the Imperial army-storm troopers, dignitaries- the only people onboard were Imperials. So when they blew it up, no prob. Evil is punished. But the second time around, it wasn't even finished yet. They were still under construction. A construction job of that magnitude would require a helluva lot more manpower than the Imperial army had to offer. I'll bet there were independent contractors working on that thing: plumbers, aluminum siders, roofers. In order to get it built quickly and quietly they'd hire anybody who could do the job. Do you think the average storm trooper knows how to install a toilet main? All they know is killing and white uniforms. All those innocent contractors hired to do a job were killed- casualties of a war they had nothing to do with. All right, look-you're a roofer, and some juicy government contract comes your way; you got the wife and kids and the two-story in suburbia-this is a government contract, which means all sorts of benefits. All of a sudden these left-wing militants blast you with lasers and wipe out everyone within a three-mile radius. You didn't ask for that. You have no personal politics. You're just trying to scrape out a living.

Good Will Hunting written by & Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a crap. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure, screw it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

How to Train Your Dragon written by William Davies, Dean DeBlois, and Chris Sanders, from the novel by Cressida Cowell Hiccup: This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. My village. In a word? Sturdy. And it's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes, we have dragons. Most people would leave. But not us. We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues. My name's Hiccup. Great name, I know. But, it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that. That's Stoick the Vast, Chief of the tribe. They say that when he was a baby he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders. Do I believe it? Yes, I do. The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little. Well, little-er. See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses. Oh and that's Fishlegs, Snotlout. the twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut and...Astrid. Aw, their job is so much cooler. One day I'll get out there. Because killing a dragon is everything around here. A Nadderhead is sure to get me at least noticed. Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get me a girlfriend. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads, twice the status. Then there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire. But the ultimate prize is the one dragon no one's ever seen. We call it the... This thing never steals food, never shows itself and...never misses. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why I'm going to be the first.

300 written by Zack Snyder, Kurt Johnstad, and Michael Gordon, from the graphic novel by Frank Miller & Lynn Varley Dilios: He did not wish tribute, nor song, or monuments or poems of war and valor. His wish was simple. "Remember us" he said to me. That was his hope, should any free soul come across that place, in all the countless centuries yet to be. "May all our voices whisper to you from the ageless stones, "Go tell the Spartans, passerby, that here by Spartan law, we lie." And so my king died, and my brothers died; barely a year ago. Long I pondered my king's cryptic talk of victory, but time has proven him wise, for from free Greek to free Greek, the word was spread that bold Leonidas and his 300, so far from home, laid down their lives... not just for Sparta, but for all Greece and the promise this country holds. Now here on this ragged patch of called Plateaea, let his hordes face obliteration! Just there the barbarians huddle, sheer terror gripping tight their hearts with icy fingers... knowing full well what merciless horrors they suffered at the swords and spears of 300, yet they stare now across the plane at 10,000 Spartans commanding 30,000 free Greeks... The enemy outnumber us a paltry 3 to 1, a match for any Greek. This day we rescue a world from mysticism and tyranny and usher in a world brighter than anything we can imagine, Give thanks, men, to Leonidas and the brave 300! To victory!

Barbershop written by Mark Brown, Don D. Scott, & Marshall Todd Eddie: Boy, look, look! Look! Your daddy may not had a whole lot of money. Oh, but he was rich, because he invested in people. What'd you think? You think I was the only one he gave a job to, Calvin? No! That man opened up the doors to anybody and any knucklehead around here in the city of Chicago that wanted to come down here and make somebody out themselves. Gave the opportunity to be somebody! A licensed professional barber. Now, me, myself, personally...I wouldn't gave half these bail-jumpers the opportunity. But, you know, it's just hard enough. You sit in there and try to cut somebody's head and gotta worry about this fool over there trying to shank you. But let me tell you somethin'. At the end of the day...the end of the day, I was glad I was here. And now you!

Signs written by M. Night Shyamalan Graham: People break down into two groups. Then when they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more then luck, more then a coincidence. They see it as a sign. Evidence that there is someone up there watching out for them. Group number two, sees it as just pure luck. A happy turn of chance. I'm sure that people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, this situation is a 50-50. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that, fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in the group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there'll be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. So what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you. Are you the kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky. Or, look at the question this way. Is it possible, that there are no coincidences? I never told you the last words that Colleen said before they let her die. She said "see." Then her eyes glazed a bit, and then she said "swing away." You know why she said that? Because the nerve endings in her brain were firing as she died and some random memory of us at one of your baseball games just popped into her head. There is no one watching out for us Merril. We are all on our own.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington written by Lewis R. Foster & Sidney Buchman Jefferson Smith: Just get up off the ground, that's all I ask. Get up there with that lady that's up on top of this Capitol dome, that lady that stands for liberty. Take a look at this country through her eyes if you really want to see something. And you won't just see scenery; you'll see the whole parade of what Man's carved out for himself, after centuries of fighting. Fighting for something better than just jungle law, fighting so as he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created, no matter what his race, color, or creed. That's what you'd see. There's no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties. And, uh, if that's what the grownups have done with this world that was given to them, then we'd better get those boys' camps started fast and see what the kids can do. And it's not too late, because this country is bigger than the Taylors, or you, or me, or anything else. Great principles don't get lost once they come to light. They're right here; you just have to see them again!

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation Clark: Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny freaking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white butt down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of wack jobs this side of the nuthouse. Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake- licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey crap he is! Hallelujah! Holy crap! Where's the Tylenol?

Glengarry Glen Ross written by Blake: Let me have your attention for a moment! So you're talking about what? You're talking about...complaining about that sale you shot, some guy that doesn't want to buy, somebody that doesn't want what you're selling, some girl you're trying to date and so forth. Let's talk about something important. Put that coffee down!! Coffee's for closers only. Do you think I'm screwing with you? I am not screwing with you. I'm here from downtown. I'm here from Mitch and Murray. And I'm here on a mission of mercy. 'Cause the good news is -- you're fired. The bad news is you've got, all you got, just one week to regain your jobs, starting tonight. Starting with tonights sit. Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. 'Cause we're adding a little something to this months sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anyone want to see second prize? Second prize's a set of steak knives. Third prize is you're fired. You get the picture? You're laughing now? You got leads. Mitch and Murray paid good money. Get their names to sell them! You can't close the leads you're given, you can't close crap, you ARE crap, hit the bricks pal and beat it 'cause you are going out!!! What's my name? SCREW YOU, that's my name!! You know why, Mister? 'Cause you drove a Hyundai to get here tonight, I drove a eighty thousand dollar BMW. That's my name!! Because only one thing counts in this life! Get them to sign on the line which is dotted! You hear me? (Blake flips over a blackboard which has two sets of letters on it: ABC, and AIDA.) 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 sell or walk. You close or you hit the bricks! Decision -- have you made your decision?!! 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? 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 care. Good father? So what -- go home and play with your kids!! You wanna work here? Close!! I can go out there tonight with the materials you got, make myself fifteen thousand dollars! Tonight! In two hours! Can you? Go and do likewise! A-I-D-A!! Get mad! (he takes out large stack of red index cards tied together with string from his briefcase) These are the new leads. These are the Glengarry leads. And to you, they're gold. And you don't get them. Because to give them to you is just throwing them away. They're for closers. I'd wish you good luck but you wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it. And to answer your question, pal: why am I here? I came here because Mitch and Murray asked me to, they asked me for a favor. I said, the real favor, follow my advice and fire you because a loser is a loser.

WOMEN’S MONOLOGUES

The Fantasticks written by Tom Jones & Harvey Schmidt Luisa: This morning a bird woke me up. It was a lark, or a peacock; something like that. So I said hello. And it vanished, flew away, the very moment I said hello! It was quite mysterious. So do you know what I did? I went to my mirror and brushed my hair two hundred times, without stopping. And as I was brushing it, my hair turned mauve. No, honestly! Mauve! Then red. then some sort of a deep blue when the sun hit it.... I'm sixteen years old, and every day something happens to me. I don't know what to make of it. When I get up in the morning and get dressed, I can tell...something's different. I like to touch my eyelids, because they're never quite the same. oh, oh, oh! I hug myself till my arms turn blue, then I close my eyes and cry and cry till the tears come down and I can taste them. I love to taste my tears. I am special. I am special! Please god, please, don't let me be normal!

Fame written by Christopher Gore Hilary: You see, I was offered this place in the San Francisco Ballet. I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm gonna take it. I don't care what they think. I'm a good dancer. Better than good. Maybe even the best in the school. And that's not conceit, it's just simple honesty. If I stay in , everyone will think I bought my way into ABT. And I'm not starving myself for Balanchine's City Ballet. Not that I mind doing the corps de ballet stuff. I'd sooner do it out of town. I'll pay my dues on the west coast, come back to New York a star. You see, I've always had this crazy dream of dancing all the classical roles before I'm twenty-one. I want Giselles and Coppélias of my feet. And Sleeping Beauties, and the Swan. I want bravos in Stuttgart and Leningrad and Paris. Maybe even a ballet created especially for me. You see? There's no room for a baby.

Stick It written by Jessica Bendinger Haley Graham: It's the same old championships but I am a totally different person. And even though I am pretty sure I will be judged for who I was and not who I am I know I have to face this. Four events and four judges per event. That's sixteen judges ready to tell us just how badly we suck. Sixteen people ready to tell us just how perfect we're not. But here we are chasing perfection. The problem is, perfection doesn't exist. But just try telling that to the judges. It doesn't matter how hard we run or how high we flip. Leave your hands on the vault table too long, deduction. If you use one arm instead of two, big deduction. And if your feet clip the vault before they hit the floor, you're done. So you say you want lyrics in your floor music…haha… huge deduction. The music finishes but you don't, two tenth deduction. It doesn't matter how well you do. It's how well you follow their rules. And that just blows.

Election written by & , from the novel by Tom Perotta Tracy Flick: Poet Henry David Thoreau once wrote, "I cannot make my days longer, so I strive to make them better." With this election, we here at Carver also have an opportunity to make our high school days better. During this campaign I have had the opportunity to speak to many of you about your concerns. I spoke with freshman Eliza Ramirez, who told me how alienated she feels from her own homeroom. I spoke with sophomore Reggie Banks who said his mother works in the cafeteria and can't afford to buy him enough spiral notebooks for his classes. I won't bore you with long winded promises about all the new and innovative things I will definitely achieve during the year in which it will be my honor and privilege to represent each and every one of you, but I can say that my years of experience on the student council have taught me the three most important attributes the president needs to possess; commitment, qualifications, and experience. I'll add one more, caring. I care about Carver and I care about each and every one of you and together we can all make a difference. One of the things I would like to establish is a regular open forum where any student can come and voice their concern about issues we face here at Carver. I and the rest of the student council would then interface with the faculty and staff, so a continuous dialogue would exist. When you cast your vote for Tracy Flick next week, you won't just be voting for me. You'll be voting for yourself and for every other student. Our days won't be any longer, but they can sure be better.

Erin Brockovich written by Susannah Grant Erin: Tweny million? Oh, see, now that pisses me off. First of all -- since the demur, we now have more than four hundred plaintiffs...and (mocking her) "let's be honest", we all know there's more out there. Now, they may not be the most sophisticated people, but they do know how to divide, and twenty million dollars is nothing when it's split between them. And second of all -- these people don't dream about being rich. They dream about being able to watch their kids swim in a pool without worrying they'll have to have a hysterectomy at age 20, like Rosa Diaz -- a client of ours -- or have their spine deteriorate like Stan Bloom. Another client of ours. So before you come back here with another lame-ass offer, I want you to think real hard about what your spine is worth, Mr.Buda -- or what you'd expect someone to pay you for your uterus, Ms. Sanchez -- then you take out your calculator and multiply that number by a hundred. Anything less than that is a waste of our time.

While You Were Sleeping written by Fred Lebow & Daniel Sullivan Lucy: I bet you were wondering what I'm doing here in the middle of the night. Well, I thought I should introduce myself. My name is Lucy. Lucy Elenore Moderatz. Umm...... I think you should know that your family thinks we're engaged. I've never been engaged before. This is very sudden for me. Umm, what I really came here to tell was that I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know what to do. If you were awake, I wouldn't be in this mess. Oh God, not that I'm blaming you. I'm sorry. It's just that when I was a kid, I always imagined what I would be like or what I would have when I got older. And you know, it was normal stuff. I'd have a house and a family and things like that. It's not that I'm complaining or anything, because I do have a cat. I have an apartment. I have a sole possession of a remote control. That's very important. It's just that I've never met anybody that I could laugh with. Do you believe in love at first site? I bet you don't. You're probably too sensible for that. Or have you ever seen somebody and you know, that if that person really knew you, they'd dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one that they wanted to grow old with? Have you ever fallen in love with somebody that you haven't even talked to? Have you ever been so alone that you spend the night confusing a man in a coma?

Junebug written by Angus MacLachlan Ashley: I hate hospitals, but it wasn't really all that scary. All the needles and stuff. It wasn't that bad. I'll tell you what the scariest thing is to me - the scariest thing to me is Johnny. It is. He didn't say nothin'. Not one word. At least I don't know what it is, and I think he really did want it, too. Just a boy - you know how I know? I heard him tell your pa to paint the cradle brown. You just wouldn't put a baby girl in a brown cradle. You just wouldn't. (starts to cry) I don't know what he's thinkin'. It's not my fault! And all that time and all that stuff I got and all those months, it was just all for nothin'! And those doctors, they think they know everything but they don't know anything! They don't know anything! Oh, I don't understand! I don't understand. Why would God let this happen? Why would he? I just wanted something good to come out of all this. I mean it... I really mean it.

Million Dollar Baby written by , from the stories by F.X. Toole Maggie Fitzgerald: I'm 32, Mr. Dunn, and I'm here celebrating the fact that I spent another year scraping dishes and waitressing which is what I've been doing since 13, and according to you I'll be 37 before I can even throw a decent punch, which I have to admit, after working on this speed bag for a month may be the God's simple truth. Other truth is, my brother's in prison, my sister cheats on welfare by pretending one of her babies is still alive, my daddy's dead, and my momma weighs 312 pounds. If I was thinking straight I'd go back home, find a used trailer, buy a deep fryer and some Oreos. Problem is, this the only thing I ever felt good doing. If I'm too old for this then I got nothing. That enough truth to suit you?

The Story of Us written by Alan Zweibel & Jessie Nelson Katie: I think we should go to Chow Fun's. I know what you’re thinking. That's not why I'm saying Chow Fun's. I'm saying Chow Fun's because we're an "us". There's a history and histories don't happen overnight. In Mesopotamia or Ancient Troy or somewhere back there, there were cities built on top of other cities, but I don't want to build another city. I like this city. I know where we keep the Bactine, and what kind of mood you're in when you wake up by which eyebrow is higher. And you always know that I'm a little quiet in the morning and compensate accordingly. That's a dance you perfect over time. And it's hard, it's much harder than I thought it would be, but there's more good than bad. And you don't just give up. And it's not for the sake of the children, but they're great kids aren't they? And we made them - I mean think about that - there were no people there and then there were people - two of them. And they grew. And I won't be able to say to some stranger, "Josh has your hands" or "Remember how Erin threw up at the Lincoln Memorial?" So what if that stranger listens to me? And it's not that there's not a charming part about you not remembering the washer fluid - which I don't understand why you can't - but that's not ultimately important. I'll try to remember that those things can be mildly endearing at times and really not worth not getting angry about. Let's face it, anybody is going to have traits that get on your nerves, why shouldn't it be your annoying traits? I'm no day at the beach, but I do have a good sense of direction so at least I can find the beach, but that's not a criticism of you, it's just a strength of mine. And you're a good friend and good friends are hard to find. Charlotte in "Charlotte's Web" said that and I love the way you read that to Erin - when you take on the voice of Wilbur the pig with such commitment even when you're bone tired. It speaks volumes about character. And ultimately isn't that what it comes down to? What a person's made of at the end of the day? Isn't that the paradox? Haven't we hit the essential paradox? Give and take, push and pull, yin and yang, the best of times, the worst of times. I think Dickens said it best. It's the Jack Sprat of it, he could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean, but that doesn't really apply here. Does it? I mean I guess what I'm trying to say is - I'm saying Chow Fun's because I love you.

Stardust written by Jane Goldman & Matthew Vaughn, from the novel by Neil Gaiman Yvaine: You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn’t true. I know a lot about love. I’ve seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars... pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I’m trying to say, Tristan is...I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it’s trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I’d wish for nothing in exchange...no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

Serendipity written by Marc Klein Sara: I've always believed in fate. I've always believed that life is more than a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. But rather, a tapestry of events that culminate into an exquisite plan. I mean, I just spent the entire flight staring into the sky thinking. Not about my fiance, but about this mystery guy I met a million and a half hours ago. A guy I don't even remember except for this vague picture inside my head. It's just a few seconds, a fragment really, and it's like, in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together. We spent only a few precious hours together and I never even gave him my last name or my phone number. Instead, I told him that if we were meant to be together, if fate meant for us to be together, we'd meet again someday. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm going to let fate take me anywhere it wants to go, because when all of this is over, at least I'll never have to think of him ever again. Let's just pray he's a bald Fascist who picks his nose and wipes it under the car seat.

Rachel Getting Married written by Kym: When I was sixteen, I was babysitting my little brother. And I was, um... I had taken all these Percocet. And I was unbelievably high and I... we had driven over to the park on Lakeshore. And he was in his red socks just running around in these piles of leaves. And, um, he would bury me and I would bury him in the leaves. And he was pretending that he was a train. And so he was charging through the leaves, making tracks, and I was the caboose, and I was, um... so he kept saying, coal, caboose! Coal, caboose! And, um, we were... it was time to go and I was driving home... and... I lost control of the car... and drove off the bridge. And the car went into the lake. And I couldn't get him out of his car seat. And he drowned. And I struggle with God so much, because I can't forgive myself. And I don't really want to right now. I can live with it, but I can't forgive myself. And sometimes I don't want to believe in a God that could forgive me. But I do want to be sober. I'm alive and I'm present and there's nothing controlling me. If I hurt someone, I hurt someone. I can apologize, and they can forgive me... or not. But I can change. And I just wanted to share that and say congratulations that God makes you look up, I'm so happy for you, but if he doesn't, come here. That’s all. Thank you.

The Notebook written by Jan Sardi & Jeremy Leven, from the novel by Nicholas Sparks Allie: Do you remember sneaking over here the first time you told me about this place? I got home late that evening, and my parents were furious when I finally came in. I can still picture my daddy standing in the living room, my mother on the sofa, staring straight ahead. I swear, they looked as if a family member had died. That was the first time my parents knew I was serious about you, and my mother had a long talk with me later that night. She said to me, "Sometimes, our future is dictated by who we are, not what we want." And I know it was wrong of her to keep your letters from me, but just try to understand. Once we left, she probably thought it would be easier for me to just let go. In her mind, she was trying to protect my feelings, and she probably thought the best way to do that was to hide the letters you sent. Not that any of it matters, now that I have Lon. He's handsome, charming, successful. He's kind to me, he makes me laugh, and I know he loves me in his own special way...but there's always going to be something missing in our relationship -- the kind of love we had that summer.

Clueless written by : Everything I think and everything I do is wrong. I was wrong about Elton, I was wrong about Christian, and now Josh hated me. It all boiled down to one inevitable conclusion, I was just totally clueless... Oh and this whole Josh and Ty thing was wiggin' me more than anything. I mean, what was my problem? Ty is my pal, I don't begrudge her a boyfriend. What does she want with Josh anyway? He dresses funny, he listens to complaint rock, he's not even cute in a conventional way... I mean, he's just like this slug that hangs around the house all the time! Ugh! And he's a hideous dancer, couldn't take him anywhere. Wait a second, what am I stressing about, this is like, Josh. Okay, okay-so he's kind of a Baldwin. What would he want with Ty, she couldn't make him happy, Josh needs someone with imagination, someone to take care of him, someone to laugh at his jokes in case he ever makes any. Oh my god! I love Josh! I'm majorly, totally, butt crazy in love with Josh! But now I don't know how to act around him. I mean normally I'd strut around in my cutest little outfits, and send myself flowers and candy but I couldn't do that stuff with Josh. Sleeping Beauty Maleficent: Oh come now, prince Phillip. Why so melancholy? A wondrous future lies before you. You, the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true. Behold, King Stefan's castle, and in yonder topmost tower, dreaming of her true love, the princess Aurora. But see the gracious whim of fate. Why, 'tis the self same peasant maid, who won the heart of our noble prince but yesterday. She is indeed most wondrous fair. Gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red, red rose. In ageless sleep she finds repose. The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart are 'bout a day. And now, the gates of the dungeon part, and the prince is free to go his way. Off he rides on his noble steed... a valiant figure, straight and tall, to wake his love with love's first kiss, and prove that true love conquers all. (evil laugh) Come, my pet. Let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts. A most gratifying day.

Diary of a Mad Black Woman written by Tyler Perry Helen: Let me explain something to you. Old Helen is gone...And you will not talk to me like that. Now I came here to help you. But now, I'm gonna get even...Shut up! You want Brenda and your kids? Do you see what you left me for? This is what you left me for. She didn't give a damn about you Charles. She told them to let you die. I was your wife I loved you, I never would've hurt you. Why did you do this to me? To us? Answer me! And you know what's funny? I gave you life even though you took it from me. Your kids, your boys....I wanted children Charles. And had you not been with those whores, we would have had them. Got me all stressed out, my hair falling, my weight up and down can't keep anything down. Two miscarriages. You took life away from me and you never said I'm sorry. I'm gonna let you sit here for a few days and think about what I said.

Addams Family Values written by Paul Rudnick, based on characters created by cartoonist Charles Addams Debbie: I don't want to hurt anybody. I don't enjoy hurting anybody. I don't like guns or bombs or electric chairs, but sometimes people just won't listen and so I have to use persuasion, and slides. My parents, Sharon and Dave. Generous, doting, or were they? All I ever wanted was a Ballerina Barbie in her pretty pink tutu. My birthday, I was 10 and do you know what they got me? Malibu Barbie. That's not what I wanted, that's not who I was. I was a ballerina. Graceful. Delicate. They had to go. My first husband, the heart surgeon. All day long, coronaries, transplants. "Sorry about dinner, Deb, the Pope has a cold." Husband number 2: the senator. He loved his state. He loved his country. Sorry Debbie. No Mercedes this year. We have to set an example." Oh yeah. Set this! My latest husband. My late, late husband Fester, and his adorable family. You took me in. You accepted me. But did any of you love me? I mean, really love me? So I killed. So I maimed. So I destroyed one innocent life after another. Aren't I a human being? Don't I yearn and ache...and shop? Don't I deserve love...and jewelry? Good-bye everybody. Wish me luck.

300 written by Zack Snyder, Kurt Johnstad, and Michael Gordon, from the graphic novel by Frank Miller & Lynn Varley Queen Gorgo: I am not here to represent Leonidas; his actions speak louder than my words ever could. I am here for all those voices which cannot be heard: mothers, daughters, fathers, sons - three hundred families that bleed for our rights, and for the very principles this room was built upon. We are at war, gentlemen. We must send the entire Spartan army to aid our king in the preservation of not just ourselves, but of our children. Send the army for the preservation of liberty. Send it for justice. Send it for law and order. Send it for reason. But most importantly, send our army for hope - hope that a king and his men have not been wasted to the pages of history - that their courage bonds us together, that we are made stronger by their actions, and that your choices today reflect their bravery.

V for Vendetta written by Andy Wachowski & Larry Wachowski, from characters created by Alan Moore & David Lloyd Evey: "Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, / The Gunpowder Treason and Plot... / I know of no reason / Why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot..." But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in his 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.

When Harry Met Sally written by Sally: When Joe and I first started seeing each other, we wanted exactly the same thing. We wanted to live together, but we didn't want to get married because anytime anyone we knew got married, it ruined their relationship. It's true, it's one of the secrets no one ever tells you. I would sit around with my girlfriends who have kids well, my one girlfriend who has kids, Alice, and she would complain about how she and Gary never did it anymore. She didn't even complain about it now that I think about it. She just said it matter-of-factly. She said they were up all night, they were both exhausted, the kids just took every romantic impulse out of them. And Joe and I used to talk about it and we’d say we were so lucky to have this wonderful relationship, we can fly off to Rome on a moments notice, or do anything we want. And then one day I was taking Alice's little girl for the afternoon because I'd promised her I'd take her to the circus and we were in the cab playing "I Spy" I spy a mailbox, I spy a lamppost and she looked out the window and she saw this man and this woman and these two little kids, and the man had one of the kids on his shoulders and Alice's little girl said, "I spy a family," and I started to cry. You know, I just started crying. And I went home and I said, "The thing is, Joe, we never do fly off to Rome on a moments notice." Anyway, we talked about it for a long time and I said, this is what I want, and he said, well, I don't, and I said well, I guess it's over, and he left. And the thing is, I feel fine. I am over him, I mean, I really am over him. That was it for him, that was the most he could give, and every time I think about it, I am more and more convinced that I did the right thing.

Mean Girls written by Tina Fey, from the book by Rosalind Wiseman Cady: Huh, wow, thanks, um, well, half the people in this room are mad at me and the other half only like me because they think I pushed someone in front of a bus, so that's not good. To all the people whose feelings got hurt by the burn book, I'm really sorry. You know I've never been to one of these things before and when I think about how many people wanted this, and how many people cried over it and stuff, I mean, I think everybody looks great tonight. Look at Jessica Lopez, that dress is amazing and Emma Gerber that hair do must have taken hours and you look really pretty. So why is everybody stressing over this thing? I mean it'sjust plastic, it's really just (she breaks the prom crown). A piece for Gretchen Wieners, a partial Spring Fling Queen. A piece for Janis Ian and a piece for Regina George, she fractured her spine and she still looks like a rockstar, and some for everybody else.

A Little Princess written by Richard LaGravenese & Elizabeth Chandler Sara: I don't have a mother either... she's in heaven with my baby sister... But that doesn't mean I can't talk to her, I talk to her all the time... I tell her everything and I know she hears me because... because that's what angels do. My mom is an angel and yours is too. With beautiful satin wings, a silk dress, and a crown of baby rosebuds, and they all live together in a castle. And do you know what it's made out of? Sunflowers. Hundreds of them, so bright they shine like the sun. And when they want to go anywhere they just whistle, like this...(whistles) and a cloud swoops down to the front gate and picks them up and as they ride through the air, over the moon and through the stars... until they are hovering right above us, that's how they can look down and make sure we're all right. And sometimes they even send messages. Of course you can't hear them with all the noise you were making... but don't worry they'll always try again... just in case you missed them.