The Best Sad Monologues for Auditions

“Sorry Baby” Credit: Mia Cioffy Henry

Can’t find the right sad monologuefor your next audition or practice? Check out our roundup of some of the saddest monologues from theater and film. 

1. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” by Joss Whedon: Anya’s breakdown

In the wake of Buffy’s mother’s death, Anya—a human who became a demon and then became a human again—has a lot of questions. When Willow asks her to be quiet, Anya breaks down, unable to come to terms with death and how the human condition works. This is an excellent sad monologue that shows how the character swings wildly between grief and bewilderment, offering actors the opportunity to showcase depth. Given its brevity, this sad monologue is a great option for prepared, open, and video auditions. 

ANYA

But I don’t understand! I don’t understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she’s…there’s just a body, and I don’t understand why she just can’t get back in it and not be dead anymore! It’s stupid! It’s mortal and stupid! And…and Xander’s crying and not talking, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, Well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she’ll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.

2. “One-Way Conversation” by Joseph Arnone: Bella’s truth  

In this short monologue, Bella confronts her mother about their relationship as her emotions shift from anger to exasperation to desperation. This emotional complexity showcases a fantastic range for self-tapes, casting calls, and open auditions.  

BELLA

You don’t understand. You don’t ever hear what I’m trying to say to you. It’s always a one-way conversation. First, you come at me and complain about all the things you think I’m not doing, and you do this to get me angry because you think by getting me angry it’s going to somehow make me work harder for what I want in my life, and you’re wrong. I’m sorry, but you’re so wrong. That’s not the way to help me move forward. It’s not. Can’t you ever just be my friend and support me by giving me encouragement? Do you have any idea how impossible what I’m going after already is? Do you? It’s so damn hard, and I can use some kindness…just some; you’re my mother, you know, I—all I ask is that you stop trying to get so damn strategy-oriented with me and instead work with me, give me sound advice, if you have any, ’cause coming down on me doesn’t help. I’m not asking you to hand-feed me, but be there for me the way I need you to be. There…you happy? Now you know what’s bothering me.

3. “Come With Me, Back Home” by Joseph Arnone: How Mom met Dad

Here, we witness a mother reminiscing about her childhood and how she met her son’s father. With this monologue, you get something that isn’t one-note—the character vacillates between humor, pride, and sadness—allowing you to show off how capable you are of tackling one emotion after another. In addition to being a great piece for practice, this monologue lends itself well to casting calls and self-tapes since it’s fairly playful, despite the sad undertones, and still packs a punch. 

MOM

He’ll play a whole album after that. Go home! Just like your father, stubborn as a mule. Goes in one ear and out your ass! Go home before you and me get into a barroom brawl! I still got it, kid. One, two, one, two. My father taught me so well I used to kick the shit out of all those dirty boys back in high school. They never saw me coming. Bah! Right to the nose. Bah! Right to the eye. They didn’t nickname me Tough Tina for nothing. One time I got jumped in the locker room by, must have been 10 girls. They hated me, this bunch. Hated me! And we went at it. I fought them all. Fierce! Hard! But they overtook me, son. They got me squished between the wall and a locker and they proceeded to bash my face with the locker door and that was it. But, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live…you see, I was a determined bitch. I was angry. I wanted my revenge. It took me one full year, one by one, I found each one of those girls and I kicked the shit out of them. One by one, by themselves. They weren’t so tough without their group. On the last girl, that was how I met your father. Imagine? Right outside the ice-cream parlor. I dragged Luella Beans, I’ll never forget her name—big girl, but not big enough to be pulled over the counter. Your mother was strong back then, and I went to work on her, but your father got in the middle of it and broke us up, and that’s when we got to talking. I told him my story and all about why I was doing what I was doing, and I don’t know, something clicked between us. Felt like I was talking to someone I already knew. There was such ease, it was so easy to talk to him…I still talk to him, he hears me, I know he hears me…I feel him listening sometimes.…

4. “All Quiet on the Western Front” by Maxwell Anderson and George Abbott, based on the novel of the same name by Erich Maria Remarque: Paul’s war revelation

In the film adaptation of Remarque’s 1929 novel, we get a glimpse of the horrors of World War I through the eyes of Paul Bäumer, a young German soldier. One of the best sad monologues from film, it shows a range of emotions, from anger and frustration to regret and utter sadness. It’s a short yet powerful piece that gives actors the opportunity to display depth, which is one of the reasons this monologue works for general or open auditions, theater auditions, and self-tapes. 

PAUL

Stop that! Stop it! Stop it! I can bear the rest of it. I can’t listen to that! Why do you take so long dying? You’re going to die anyway! Oh, no. Oh, no. You won’t die. Oh, no. You won’t die. They’re only little wounds. You’ll get home. You’ll be alright. You’ll get home before I will. You know I can’t run away. That’s why you accuse me. I tell you, I didn’t want to kill you. I tried to keep you alive. If you jumped in here again, I wouldn’t do it. You see, when you jumped in here, you were my enemy—and I was afraid of you. But you’re just a man like me, and I killed you. Forgive me, comrade. Say that for me. Say you forgive me! Oh, no. You’re dead! Only you’re better off than I am. You’re through. They can’t do any more to you now. Oh, God, why did they do this to us? We only wanted to live, you and I. Why should they send us out to fight each other? If we threw away these rifles and these uniforms, you could be my brother, just like Kat and Albert. You’ll have to forgive me, comrade. I’ll do all I can. I’ll write to your parents. I’ll write to—I’ll write to your wife. I’ll write to her. I promise she’ll not want for anything. And I’ll help her and your parents, too. Only forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me! Forgive me!

5. “The Burning Plain” by Guillermo Arriaga: Sylvia’s confession 

This sad monologue is a confession from Sylvia (who is, spoiler alert, actually Mariana) as she reveals how she accidentally killed her mother and her mother’s lover after discovering their affair when she was younger. This is a quiet monologue—it’s delivered to a character who seems to be sleeping—but still manages to deliver plenty of emotion. It’s an opportunity to make an impression and stand out with a short and impactful monologue that lets you pack a lot of emotion into just a few lines. 

SYLVIA/MARIANA

You are not going to die, are you? ’Cause if you die, I wouldn’t know what to do with her. I can barely look at her in the eyes. She needs you. And I need you. I’m so scared. I’ve been living scared of myself and now I can’t…I can’t run away anymore. I killed them…I killed your father and my mother. I didn’t mean to, but…now I can’t get the smell of the burning. I can’t get rid of it.… Why did you want me to come back here? Why? Why?

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6. “Passion” by Brian De Palma and Natalie Carter: Christine’s accident 

Christine Stanford’s monologue tells the story of how she accidentally caused her sister’s death as children. We see frustration and sadness over her life and how she lost her parents’ affection as a result. Depending on the delivery, this monologue can run fairly long. However, as with other lengthy pieces on this list, it gives you the opportunity to demonstrate your range as you move from emotion to emotion. 

CHRISTINE

When I was six years old, my parents bought me and my twin sister a bike ’cause we like to share everything. So we would take turns riding it to school, and Clarissa was so much better on the bike than I was. She could pedal standing up and ride no hands. So one day was my turn, and I was just so determined that I was going to show her I could be just as good as she could. I started pedaling faster and faster and she had to run like hell to keep up with me. And I let go of the handlebars. I felt like I was flying, and it felt so good. I just wanted to see myself. So, I looked into the window and I caught my reflection. And then I don’t know what happened. I swerved into the street and this truck was coming right at me. And the last thing I remember was this horrible thunk. And I woke up in the hospital and my mother was sobbing and I asked her what happened to Clarissa and she said… Well…she didn’t…she wouldn’t even look at me. And no one ever said anything, but I knew what they were thinking. That I killed her…and they never ever told me that they loved me ever again.

7. “One” by Terrence Mosley: A son’s pain

This is a brief monologue, but it conveys a range of emotions, from frustration to anger, as the son talks to his father about when he first learned to shave. Because it’s compact, this monologue is a great piece for open and prepared auditions where you usually have a limited amount of time. 

SON

Nope. Picked up the blade when at 14 and never looked back. Ma never wanted me to shave. I thought she didn’t want me to grow up or something like that, but now I understand. She would always say to me, every time, she would say, “It’s gonna grow back thicker.” First couple times weren’t too bad. A little irritation, no cuts, everything was fine. Next thing I know, I start getting all these bumps. I would let it grow out, they would disappear, and I would shave again. I would get more, every time I shaved, and I started to pick at them. I couldn’t pop ’em fast enough. Then it started feeling like I had steel pushing out of my pores. Sometimes it’s so bad I can’t sleep at night. Ma tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen. I would go to bed mad at you. Thinkin’ you did this to me. Try and put you out of my head and there you are just beneath the surface pushing up. Pushing pain.

8. “The Holdovers” by David Hemingson: Mary’s Christmas

Over Christmas break at Barton, a New England boarding school in 1970, cafeteria manager Mary Lamb is quietly carrying the death of her son Curtis, a former Barton student killed after being drafted to Vietnam. When the curmudgeonly teacher stranded on campus with her asks why she won’t go home for the holiday, Mary lowers her guard. The speech is a master class in restraint, moving through exhaustion, pride, dark humor, and open grief without ever announcing the shift. Try keeping the grief underneath the words and let it leak through, the way Da’Vine Joy Randolph does.

MARY

I was engaged to Curtis’s father, but he died before I gave birth. Harold worked in the shipyards. And one day, they were carrying this big cargo pallet and the cable snapped. Hit him right across the head. They were good men, both of them, and neither one of them made it to 25. My baby wasn’t even 20. I took this job when Curtis was little, so he could get a good education. You know, he flourished here.… He had his heart set on Swarthmore, and he had the grades, but I didn’t have the money. Even with financial aid, it wasn’t enough. So when he got called up, no student deferment, off he went. You know what he said to me? He said: “Hey Ma, look at the upside. When I get discharged, I can go to college on the GI Bill.” College. And here we are. With my Curtis in the cold ground, and those boys safe and warm in their beds. It’s like you said. “Life is like a henhouse ladder.” That’s right—I can hear everything you’re saying from the kitchen. Especially that little Kountze kid. Crown prince of all the little assholes.

9. “A Real Pain” by Jesse Eisenberg: David at dinner

Midway through a Holocaust heritage tour of Poland, mild, anxious David Kaplan finally says the thing he’s been swallowing the whole trip. His magnetic, volatile cousin Benji has just blown up the group dinner and walked off, and David admits how much he loves Benji, envies him, and resents him, before landing on the revelation that Benji attempted suicide six months earlier. That gear shifting is catnip for a casting panel, and the piece is contained and camera-ready for a self-tape. Because it turns on suicide, flag it as sensitive material and play the reveal with care rather than for shock.

DAVID

That’s the thing! I have shit going on! I do. But I take a pill for my fuckin’ OCD, I jog, I meditate, and I go to work and come home at the end of the day. I move forward. Because I know my pain is unexceptional, so I don’t feel the need to burden everybody with it! I’m sorry I’m ranting. I’m just so fucking exhausted by him sometimes. I love him and I hate him and I want to kill him and I want to be him and I feel so lame around him because he’s so fucking cool and doesn’t give a shit and then just being here with him is baffling because like... How did this guy come from the survivors of this place? That your uncle had to sell used furniture to rich assholes! Or got rejected from med school! That you survived the most horrific thing to happen on this planet in the last 30 years! That our grandmother survived when the whole world was trying to kill her! And I look at him, and I just wanna ask him! I just wanna ask him and I just can’t! How could a person who’s the product of a thousand fucking miracles overdose on a bottle of sleeping pills?!

10. “Sorry, Baby” by Eva Victor: Agnes’s benediction

In Eva Victor’s debut feature, Agnes must grapple with being sexually assaulted by the professor she once revered, moving through a world that keeps failing to meet her pain with any real care. In the last scene, alone with her best friend's infant daughter, she levels with the baby. For an actor, it’s a rare chance to hold warmth, grief, and dark humor in the same breath without ever raising your voice. Because it’s addressed to a baby who can’t answer, it plays especially well as a self-tape or a still, contained audition piece where you win the room by underplaying. 

AGNES

When you’re a grown-up, you can tell me whatever. Seriously, like, if you’ve had a thought and you’re like, That’s a bad thought, I’ve probably had that same thought but 10 times worse. So. You can tell me. I’ll never be scared by that. Whatever it is, like if someone does something bad to you. If someone says something scary. If you want to kill yourself. With like a pencil, or a knife, or whatever. You can just tell me. Because I won’t tell you you’re scaring me. I’ll just say, “Yeah, I know, I think it’s just like that sometimes.” I’m sorry. That bad things are going to happen to you. I hope they don’t. If I can ever stop anything from being bad, let me know. But sometimes bad stuff happens. That’s why I feel bad for you. In a way. That you’re alive and you don’t know that yet. But let me know if there’s anything I can do. Like listen or get you a sandwich or something. It’s weird ’cause you don’t love me yet and I don’t love you yet. I never wanted to have a little thing like you. I feel like maybe at one point I would have thought about it. But I don’t think it makes sense now. No offense, obviously. But I can still listen and not be scared. So that is good. Or, uh, that’s something, at least.

Finding the best sad monologues for auditions or practice can be challenging. Here are some tips to help you choose the best monologues and impress casting directors in the room. 

1. Be intentional: Given the sheer number of choices, it can be tempting to just pick a random piece of work. However, doing so can be a costly mistake. Make sure you have a clear objective when searching for a monologue. Determine the type of role you want and how a particular monologue can help you land it. 
2. Take the listener on a ride: Choose a monologue with several layers that allow you to play the subtext. Take your character on a journey and, in turn, let the audience see your range of emotions. 
3. Be unique: Don’t be afraid to go for something new or obscure if it resonates with you. Well-known monologues offer a sense of familiarity, but the decision-makers in the room have likely seen it over and over again. Unless you truly have a different angle on the material, look for a monologue that allows you to stand out. 
4. Keep it short: Ideally, your monologue is between 60 and 90 seconds. If your monologue is longer, trim it down (just make sure the piece still feels complete after the edit).
5. Experiment: Once you’ve chosen a monologue, switch up your practice routine. Instead of sitting down while practicing, why not walk around? Perform a sad monologue as happily as you can. Test out different deliveries for specific words and phrases. Trying out new things opens up opportunities for discovery. Plus, it keeps your performance from becoming one-note.