5 Great Movie Monologues

“You want get Capone? Here’s how you get him: He pulls a knife; you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital; you send one of his to the morgue. That's the “Chicago" way, and that's how you get Capone. Now do you want to do that? Are you ready to do that? I'm making you a deal. Do you want this deal?"

The Untouchables (1987)
Sean Connery as Jim Malone
Screenplay by David Mamet
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“Work hard? Why you little manipulative . . . Let me tell you something. I’ve worked all my life. I’ve built a firm, managed to keep it alive through lawsuits, injunctions, and evictions. I’ve survived a quadruple bypass, cancer, being born with one kidney, and having diabetes. I’ve personally managed to save a million dollars over 30 years of getting some clients 10 times that. Don’t tell me I don’t work hard. Don’t tell me I haven’t earned the right to stop, take a breath, and enjoy life. And what the hell do you know about any of this anyway? Huh? Something like this, Erin, could take forever. They’re a huge corporation. They could bury us in paperwork for the next 15 years. I’m just a guy with a small private firm.”

Erin Brockovich (2000)
Albert Finney as Ed Masry
Screenplay by Susannah Grant

“It wasn't him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden, you came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson." You remember that? "This ain't your night" My night. I coulda taken Wilson apart. So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palookaville. You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money. You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, Charley, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley.”

On the Waterfront (1954)
Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy
Screenplay by Budd Schulberg

“Ray, people will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. “Of course, we won't mind if you look around”, you'll say. “It's only $20 per person.” They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it. For it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come, Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh. People will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.”

Field of Dreams (1989)
James Earl Jones as Terence Mann
Screenplay by Phil Alden Robinson

“Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country. Men, all this stuff you’ve heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is alot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball player, the toughest boxer. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That’s why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, an Army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don’t know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating. Now we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. You know, by God, I actually pity those poor bastards we’re going up against. By God, I do. We’re not just going to shoot the bastards. We’re going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We’re going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel. Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Now there’s another thing I want you to remember. I don’t want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We’re not holding anything. Let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly and we’re not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're gonna go through him like crap through a goose. There’s one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. 30 years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, “What did you do in the great World War II”, you won’t have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." Alright now, you sons of bitches, you know how I feel. Oh, and I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle, anytime, anywhere. That’s all.”

Patton (1970)
George C. Scott as General George S. Patton
Screenplay by Francis Ford Coppola and Edmund H. North