The movie monologue serves multiple purposes. It may be for exposition, as in Back to the Future when Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) explains all that is needed for time travel: plutonium, 88 miles per hour, and the dashboard date/time setup. It could be foreshadowing, brilliantly lampooned in Wayne's World, where a security guard (Chris Farley) gives highly specific information about who's in the limo and what its route will be, prompting Wayne (Mike Myers) to turn to the camera and say, "For a security guard, he had an awful lot of information, don't you think?" A monologue may also drop a key plot point and/or twist (think Orphan, when Dr. Varava (Karel Roden) tells Kate (Vera Farmiga) that (SPOILER) Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) is actually a 33-year-old woman, not a 9-year-old orphan). There's more, of course, but what is true, regardless of its intent, is that the monologue gives the actor a space to make their character come alive, to make the character their own. These are just a few examples of actors that took the opportunity and ran with it.
Jaws (1975)
A night of revelry aboard the Orca between the three men aboard turns abruptly, when Brody (Roy Scheider) asks Quint (Robert Shaw) about a tattoo that's been removed. Thus begins Quint's tale of the USS Indianapolis, the boat he was stationed on that delivered the Hiroshima bomb, and how the boat sank, leaving the survivors as shark bait. Shaw grabs hold immediately, his delivery controlled, but haunting nevertheless. You feel how Shaw's Quint may not have died, but the sharks did take a part of him, and his observations of a shark's eye are chilling. It's perfection.
Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)
Dr. Evil's (Mike Myers) brief recap of his life, told in a group therapy session, is a master class in commitment to the character. The whole monologue is ridiculous and absurd, but Myers buys in and doesn't destroy the moment by acknowledging the madness. He delivers the lines seriously, as if the events were absolutely true, making the moment even funnier.
Independence Day (1996)
Is it cheesy? Yep. So much so that had the movie been released in the early 1970s it may have earned a shout-out on Monty Python's Cheese Shop sketch. But cheese be damned: Bill Pullman, as U.S. President Thomas Whitmore, delivers it with such conviction and passion, you felt like you wanted to jump in and fight right by his side.
Dirty Harry (1971)
“Did he fire six shots, or only five?” Clint Eastwood was the epitome of cool, with his squinting eyes and his raspy, no-nonsense candor, and the role of Harry Callahan in Dirty Harry was the perfect marriage of actor and role. Set in San Francisco, the whole city lives in fear of the "Scorpio Killer" (Andrew Robinson), a crazed maniac who has been killing citizens and taunting the police with ransom notes. Harry has been assigned to the case, which eventually leads to a showdown with the killer, where Harry delivers the iconic "You've gotta ask yourself a question. Do I feel lucky? Well, do you, punk?"
Pulp Fiction (1994)
Delivered as only Samuel L. Jackson can. It's a paraphrased Bible verse, one that Jackson's character Jules uses whenever he's about to kill someone, because he simply thought it was cool to make the passage the last thing his victims would hear. However, the most memorable time Jules says it is at the end of the film, where he and Vincent (John Travolta) have their breakfast at the Hawthorne Grill disrupted by two bandits robbing the diner. Disarming the two, Jules stares down Pumpkin (Tim Roth) and recites the passage again — slowly, methodically — and leaves Pumpkin with the knowledge that earlier in the day, Jules would have blown him away, but he has chosen to become a better person.
Clueless (1995)
Mr. Hall (Wallace Shawn), a debate teacher, sets up an in-class debate between Cher (Alicia Silverstone) and Amber (Elisa Donovan). The topic: Should all oppressed people be allowed refuge in America? Cher is given the pro position, and it sets up one of the most odd, yet spot-on and accurate arguments of all time. Cher likens the arrival of Haitians (which she pronounces hate-tee-ins, perfect for the character) to a garden party she held for her father's birthday. It was an RSVP event, but people showed up who had not done so. Instead of kicking them out, Cher explains that she moved a few things around in order to accommodate the extra guests, and it all worked out, and the government could do the same. She then ends her argument with the classic: "It does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty."
The Great Dictator (1940)
The Great Dictator is Charlie Chaplin’s first sound film, a scathing, yet humorous, indictment of Adolf Hitler and Germany at the start of World War II. Chaplin plays two roles: a nameless Jewish barber, and Adenoid Hynkel, ruthless dictator of the fictional land of Tomainia. Hynkel has plans to invade Osterlich, and then world domination. A series of events culminates in the barber, who looks exactly like Hynkel (and - wink, wink - a dead ringer for Adolf Hitler), is mistaken for the dictator, and uses this to reverse Hynkel's antisemitic policies and proclaim both Tomainia and Osterlich to be democratic, free nations. In doing so, the barber as Hynkel delivers one of the all-time great speeches, not just on film but in history. For over three minutes, Chaplin delivers a passionate, beautiful speech about, in a nutshell, people being better. But that's just a lazy summation. It is virtually impossible to pick just one sentence of this speech that isn't meaningful, true and timeless.
Sunset Boulevard (1950)
Joe Gillis (William Holden), a down-on-his-luck screenwriter, gets a flat tire in front of a large, seemingly abandoned mansion. He walks up to the mansion, where he meets Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), a long-forgotten silent-film star. Learning Joe is a screenwriter, Norma asks him to look at a script that she has written, with the hopes of reviving her failing career. The script is awful, but Joe needs the money, so he talks his way into being hired as her editor. As the film progresses, we learn that her belief in her fame is kept alive by Max (Erich von Stroheim), who sends her fan mail, and see Joe fall into a romantic entanglement with Norma. At the end Joe snaps, tells her bluntly that she is not famous anymore. As he leaves, Norma shoots him in the back, a final act before she breaks with reality and into delusion.
And that's where we find her monologue. Believing the press and police in her home are working on her new film, she walks towards the camera and delivers the chilling, iconic, "All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up."
The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
The first meeting of Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) and the infamous Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). It is the first time we are introduced to the doctor, and what a first impression: unblinking eyes, slight smile, polite and yet frightening. Then he launches into the “rube” monologue. Upon first hearing it, it sounds like Lecter is being impossibly rude, deriding everything about Starling. However, the true motive is Lecter testing the young agent’s mettle. He has no desire to talk to anyone from the FBI he appraises as unworthy, and Starling's refusal to back down from his comments earns his respect.
Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989)
Bill S. Preston, ESQ. (Alex Winter) and Ted "Theodore" Logan (Keanu Reeves) need to pass their history report, or else their band Wyld Stallyns will die. Oh, and the entire fate of the world is counting on them, otherwise the future brings a most odious end. They travel throughout time, collecting historical figures and end up presenting the most bodacious history report. Nothing sums up their adventures more than the words of Abe Lincoln (Robert V. Barron): “Be excellent to each other… and party on, dudes!” Has a ring to it that “four score and seven years ago” can’t touch.