Enter the Monologue
The Monologue would seem to fully support the formula that is:
Actor Alone On Stage + Words = Brilliant, Larger-than-Life Actor
However, the potential is much greater. The monologue is a wonderful way to reveal meaningful aspects of a character’s journey, his thoughts and his truth, while enriching the overall story—in a most pure and emotionally engaging fashion. There can be a beautiful vulnerability to being alone on the stage, and whether or not it’s the characters’ intention, vulnerability breeds truth. How do we as writers achieve that truth to be realized by actors within the greater context of a good play?
I’m reminded of Constantin Stanislavsky’s Affective Memory, wherein actors were encouraged to recall memories of a situation with similar emotional import as that of their character. An element of his famous “Method," Affective Memory may be just as easily, and perhaps intrinsically, applied to writers.
Everyone, for example, has felt thankful for something (e.g., “Thank you for the kind gesture," “Thanks, that was fun," or, sarcastically even, “Thanks for nothing.") Either way, that gratitude comes from a deeper, more vulnerable place, a place that breeds good actors and writers alike.