The Curious Savage Monologues

Please be familiar with all of the following monologues that correspond to your gender (everyone should
be familiar with Dr. Emmett’s monologue), but choose one to prepare for your audition. You do not have
to memorize it but do your best to show me a real person. At the audition, you will slate yourself (say your
name and which monologue you have prepared) and perform the monologue once. After you have done
the monologue, I may ask you to do it again or ask you to do another monologue from this selection.
Remember, take risks and don’t hold anything back! I look forward to seeing you at the auditions!

TITUS/LILY BELLE/SAMUEL (pp.12-13)

She planned on using this Memorial fund to give away the entire Savage estate. The newspapers called it
her happiness fund. She’s always given money to foolish causes. There was an Italian farmer who
wanted a box of soil from Italy. Just dirt! Mother spent two hundred dollars to get it for her. And there
was a flower peddler who asked for a tombstone for his horse. He got it. After Father died, this
obsession got progressively worse. Last summer she chartered a ship to send a thousand children around
the world. She said they ought to go around the world while there was still a world around.

DR. EMMETT (p. 75):

Jeffrey sees only what he wants to see—an excuse for not facing the future. Does Florence see that her
child was taken from her? Does Fairy see what the mirror should tell her? No. They’ve found refuge in an
egg-shell world where you don’t belong. For you see yourself clearly, I’m sure. You belong in the world
you can best serve. The impulse to live your life with courage was right. Go ahead with your Memorial.
And don’t be betrayed by the illusion of contentment. The door is open for you. Make your peace with
loneliness.

HANNIBAL (p. 25):

Fairy knows that I used to be a statistician. My last position was with the government, charting trends. I
was supposed to keep my finger on the pulse of the public and my ear to the ground. It was a very
vulnerable position. I was fired and replaced by an electronic calculator. I don’t hate electricity like Mrs.
Paddy—but I did want to make money with my brains. So, I spent the next two years trying to think of
something that could be made for a dime—sold for a dollar—and was habit-forming. I’m afraid my
education was wasted.

JEFF (pp. 48-49):

Can you keep a secret? Dr. Emmett is not a doctor at all. He’s a patient -- just like Ms. Paddy. For five
years now he’s promised to give me a new face. Do you believe a man is what is he claims to be? It’s best
to believe the worst of people. If you believe the worst, then the worst is only half bad at best. And the
best is no worst than expected. So it’s best to believe the worst. It’s simple. When a man says he is wise,
you say he is a fool. But if he’s a fool, you believe him. Dr. Emmett is a fool. He claims he’s a doctor.
The war was over five years ago – and where’s his miracle?
MRS. SAVAGE (pg. 23 – 24):
Well, having kicked over the traces myself—and learned once again the importance of unimportant things
—I decided I’d help others have the foolish things they’d always wanted. So, I established the Jonathan
Savage Memorial Fund—a foundation for giving money away in memory of my husband. And that
insane idea has brought me here. Well, at least I learned one thing from my French lessons: what I am.
I’m a “mort canard.” That’s a “dead duck”—I think. Some day you’ll realize that a great injustice was
done me. You’ll know that I was always quite sane. But here I am—and here they’ll try to keep me—with
my few foolish years taken from me.

MRS. SAVAGE (pg. 27):

Oh, I’ve never had a better time in my life. The Times said my play set the theatre back fifty years. It
couldn’t possibly— because I stole the plot from “Madame X,” and that’s only forty years old. But the
Wall Street Journal was wonderful. It said I brought something new to the theatre. It said I had a
“tenacious mediocrity unhampered by taste.” It was perfect. In our ads we simply said “Tenacious” and
“Unhampered.” We’d have been running yet if my daughter hadn’t come home and stopped me. Oh, I
know I was bad and audiences only came to laugh at me. But we both had a good time. What more can
you ask? I do miss it. Oh, well. My turn is coming.

FAIRY MAY (pp. 6-7):

I’m sorry, Florence. I was watching the fireflies. What did you say? I wish I’d been born a cat so I could
see in the dark. I wonder what she’s like? Miss Willie says they are one of the wealthiest families in
America. Please don’t play gypsy music, Hannibal it frightens me. Terrifies me. I was stolen by gypsies
when I was a child and rescued just as they were about to dye my skin with walnut juice. Well, I was. I
hope she likes music. Maybe she plays some instrument herself. The harp! Oh - I hope she plays the
harp! I was raised on a harp. My father (raises hands harpist-fashion) like an angel!

MISS WILLIE (pp. 73-74):

I have something to give you too. It’s your bonds. Except for the corner of one that I had to burn with
the newspapers to look convincing. I stole them when the lights went out. What bothers me is that after I
took them, I toyed with the idea of keeping them. But I stopped because of what Jeff might think. But,
you knew Jeff was my husband, didn’t you? Well, he is. I want to be here when he recovers. And do
you know why I wouldn’t keep any of that money? Pure selfishness. I want to do everything for him
myself. Surely you understand that?

FLORENCE (pp. 10-11, 19)

Oh, Fairy, don’t peek. It’s so degrading to get on your knees. This is the last time I’m going to be a party
to peeking, Fairy. Kneeling simply ruins my nylons. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. You must
be Mrs. Savage. I’m Florence Williams. We’ve been expecting you all afternoon. We’re so glad to have
you with us. May I introduce Fairy May? And this is Hannibal. And this is our Mrs. Paddy. And, well
he was here a few moments ago. John Thomas! John Thomas! Oh, look! Asleep on the floor. My
husband warned me I’d be a bad mother. Mrs. Savage, this is my son.

MRS. PADDY (pg. 9):

I hate everything in the world, but most of all I hate cold cream, hot dogs, codfish, crawfish, catnip,
sheepdip, sawdust, subways, skewers, buttermilk, caterpillars, frictions, fractions, pins, puns, pens,
policemen, and electricity.