Dune (1984) David Lynch-Screenplay http://movieclips.com/W5Dj-dune-movie-hunter-seeker/ INT. PAUL'S ROOM - ARRAKEEN PALACE - DAY The LIGHT decreases and Paul stands trembling. As he moves to the bed he sees a portion of the headboard slowly folding down and he sees a chrome sliver of metal glide out from within the dark opening. He freezes. PAUL (inner voice) A hunter-seeker!... It can't get me if I don't move... It's too dark in here for it to see clearly... The hunter-seeker begins to lift and swing across the room and back--searching. PAUL (CONT'D) (inner voice) I've got to grab it -- the suspensor field will make it slippery on the bottom -- I must grip it tightly. The seeker drops a little, circling around the bed. A faint HUMMING sound is heard. PAUL (CONT'D) (inner voice) Who is operating that thing?... It has to be someone in the Palace. I could shout for help but it would kill whoever opened the door... Just as Paul finishes this thought the other door to his room begins to open and the Shadout Mapes peers in. The hunter-seeker arrows past Paul toward the motion. Paul swiftly reaches out and grips the deadly thing. It HUMS and twists violently in his hand. With a powerful turn and thrust, Paul slams the glass nose of the seeker into the stone wall. The seeker goes dead in his hand. He looks up into the deep blue eyes of the Shadout Mapes. SHADOUT MAPES (shaken) It would have killed me... not so? PAUL I was the target. It went to the motion. Who are you? SHADOUT MAPES I am the Shadout Mapes... the housekeeper. PAUL A Fremen... Could she be the operator? No... SHADOUT MAPES I must cleanse the way between us.... You saved my life... and we Fremen pay our debts. It's known to us that you've a traitor in your midst. Who it is we cannot say but we're certain of it. PAUL (inner voice) A traitor... TRIVIA VIA IMDB: "During the film's original release, "cheatsheets" explaining much of the movie's setting and its more obscure vocabulary were handed out to moviegoers at some theatres. " DIALOGUE ON DIALOGUE: TRACI (inner voice) Oy vey! TRACI A screenwriter's double whammy "no-no" here; on-the-nose Exposition delivered via Inner-Voice/Talking to Oneself. TRACI (inner voice) It's astounding that with all the blunt exposition, cheatsheets were still required?

"Taxi Driver" Travis Bickle: You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4e9CkhBb18E&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv% Travis Bickle is a man looking for a reason to use violence. This classic scene clearly illustrates the point.

Macbeth (1971, directed by Roman Polanski) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4X8IgWWKpVw ---- XXXVII. Lady M's chamber. The doctor is seen through the holes of a screening. Doctor: Besides her walking and other actual performances, what has she said? Maid: That which I will not report after her. Doc: You may to a doctor. 'Tis most meet you should. Maid: Neither to you, nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech. Doc: Very well. The man is writing something. They both catch sight of Lady M who is watching them. She is walking naked in her room. Doc: Her eyes are open. Maid: Ay, but their sense is shut. Lady M seats at a table and pretends to be washing her hands in a bowl. Doc: What is it she does now? Maid: An accustomed action. To seem thus washing her hands. The man goes towards her. She is still "washing" her hand. The man puts a hand in front of her face to see if she realizes something but she continues. She stops trembling and she looks at her hands. Lady M: Yet there's a spot. The man signals something to the maid. Lady M: Out, damned spot. Out, I say. She is still wiping her hands very vigorously. The maid brings a bag and the man takes out a piece of paper and a feather. Lady M looks at him. Lady M: One. Lady M looks in front of her. The man stops writing. Lady M: Two. She stands up. Lady M: Why then 'tis time to do it. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? She walks towards the curtain and stops. She has a fixed and lost gaze. Lady M: Yet who'd have thought the old man to have so much blood in him? Doc: Well, well. Lady M: The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? She looks again at her hands. Lady M: What, will these hands ne'er be clean? She leans to the curtain. Her tone changes. Lady M: No more of that, my lord. No more of that. Your mar all with this starting. Doc (to the maid): Go to, go to. You have known what you should not. Maid: She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. Lady M: Here's the smell of blood still. She begins to cry. Lady M: All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. She cries and screams. Doc: What a sigh is there! The heart is solely charged. Lady M turns towards them. Lady M: Wash your hands, put on your nightgown. Look not so pale. She backs off towards the maid and the doctor. Lady M (cont'd): I tell you, Banquo's buried. He cannot come out of his grave. Even so? She grasps the gown of the doctor. Lady M: To bed, to bed. Come, come, come. They help her to bed. Lady M: Come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed. Doc (between himself): More needs she the divine than the physician. God! God forgive us all. Doc (to the maid): Look after her. Remove from her the means of all annoyance and keep eyes upon her. He takes his bag and leaves. Doc: Good night. Maid: Good night, good doctor. He leaves her room. Door closing.

DIE HARD (1988) John McClane: [huddled in an air vent, recalls his wife's invitation] "Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs..." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLU5chJ3cRM [2:07]

Well, it has to be Smeagol talking to Gollum.....which is perfect as an example of talking to yourself but with a dialogue as opposed to a monologue! ;-) Video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_aziIIp8U8 GOLLUM We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precioussss. They stole it from us. Sneaky little hobbitsesss. Wicked, trickssssy, falssse! SMÉAGOL No! Not Master. GOLLUM Yes, precious. False. They will cheat you, hurt you, lie. SMÉAGOL Master’s my friend. GOLLUM [Tauntingly] You don’t have any friends. Nobody likes YOU... SMÉAGOL [Covers his ears] Not listening. I’m not listening. GOLLUM You’re a liar and a thief. SMÉAGOL [Shaking his head] Nope. GOLLUM Mur…derer…! SMÉAGOL [Starts to weep and whimper] Go away. GOLLUM Go away! [Cackles] HAHAHAHA!! SMÉAGOL [Weeping and in a small voice] I hate you. I hate you! GOLLUM [Fiercely] Where would you be without me? *Gollum, gollum*. I saved us. It was me. We survived because of me! SMÉAGOL [Resolute] Not anymore. GOLLUM [Startled] What did you say? SMÉAGOL Master looks after us now. We don’t need you. GOLLUM What? SMÉAGOL Leave now and never come back. GOLLUM No!! SMÉAGOL [Louder] Leave now and never come back! GOLLUM [Growls and bares his teeth] Arrrgh!!! SMÉAGOL LEAVE. NOW. AND. NEVER. COME. BACK! [Sméagol pants and then looks around.] SMÉAGOL We... we told him to go away! And away he goes, preciousss. [He hops around in joy and does a little dance.] Gone, gone, gone! Sméagol is free! Just brilliant stuff. Yes the CGI is great and I think it was quite an important scene from a technical point of view as well, but what it does from a story telling point of view is show us just exactly how tortured Smeagol is and how his "other" self is vying for control. It also gives us a sense of hope that Gollum has been banished and Smeagol is in control and good again. But, most importantly, it generates an enormous sense of empathy and sympathy for the character (who is already pretty sympathetic) which makes his betrayal and eventual fate all the more heartbreaking - it ensures we are angry at his treatment of Sam, almost glad when he fails, then feel immense sorrow when he falls in Mount Doom.....great stuff and great writing. And, because I still feel sorry for him, here is some Gollum/Smeagol trivia from IMDB! The design for Gollum took over 100 maquette sculptures and over 1000 drawings to get right.

25th Hour (2002) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hthimFxKQ0o [Monty standing in the men's bathroom, talking to himself in a mirror with "FUCK YOU!" written on it] Monty Brogan: Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck *me*? Fuck *you*, Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car - get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for "The Sopranos." Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck J.C.! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J.! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place. [pause] Monty Brogan: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you *dumb* *fuck*!

One of our family's favorites comes to mind immediately as a fine example of the theme: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986), written and directed by John Hughes. Even rather young kids recognize this film for the amount of monologue and soliloquy Hughes used in this film. My son was only nine when he rather excitedly pointed out, "Mom! Ferris is breaking the fourth wall!" (Thank goodness his language arts teacher actually used a little film appreciation during instruction that year. I could have cried for joy.) A critical component of this ensemble film is the tension between easy-going protagonist Ferris Bueller and his anally-retentive sidekick Cameron Frye. The disparity between their extroverted and introverted natures sets up Cameron's soliloquy in this car early in the film (transcript follows): CAMERON: (sniffs) He'll keep calling me, he'll keep calling me until I come over. He'll make me feel guilty. This is uh... This is ridiculous. Okay I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go. What— I'LL GO. Shit. God DAMN it. (screams in frustration) Forget it. That's it. (mutters) (exits car, mutters while flailing outside car) Video clip here Other supporting characters also talk to themselves in a wholly believable fashion. We expect curmudgeonly principal Ed Rooney to vent spleen; it's in his nature (transcript): ED ROONEY: (reads card attached to flower arrangement from English Dept.) Keh-rist. (delivery van honks, Rooney flips bird in reply) (steps off front porch) Poochie, poochie, poochie! (Whistles for dog while carrying flower arrangement in vase to backyard) Look what Uncle Ed's got for you, you little fucker! Video clip here While Ed may act as if he’s calling the dog, he’s in the front yard when he delivers this line—he’s really speaking to himself for his own satisfaction, underlining the character’s tendency to be a bit of a blowhard windbag. Hughes doesn’t tell us this characteristic; he shows us this by allowing Rooney to talk to himself for the benefit of his audience. There's a rather nice 15-minute video about the making of Ferris Bueller's Day Off; the comments about Hughes' speed at drafting a script are amazing. The flexibility Hughes has as writer, producer, and director is also noted in this video; it can be seen in the difference between the transcript of Cameron's soliloquy above, and the actual script (excerpt follows): 69 INT. CAR. CAMERON 69 He's sitting behind the wheel of his car. CAMERON We're gonna get caught. No doubt about it. He cuts the engine. CAMERON I'm not doing it. He sits for half a beat. CAMERON He'll keep calling until I come over. He sighs and restarts the engine. Another beat. CAMERON Actually, what'll happen is I'll get caught. Ferris'll escape. Another beat. He stops the engine. A CRASH OF HORROR MUSIC. For writers a lesson in the difference is that delivery may encourage a deviation from the original script. Alan Ruck as Cameron offers an alternative, whether re-written or unscripted, which is a little more characteristic of Cameron's uptight, obsessive-compulsive nature. The difference might also have been driven by the use of the automobile as a prop.

Nuts, forgot to add this to my comment. It should be noted that Rooney's line after he steps off the porch with flower arrangement in hand is not in the orginal script linked above at all. In retrospect it's hard to imagine a rational transition from the front porch to the dog lying in backyard after being thumped with the vase without Rooney talking to himself between those two points. This is probably the difference between a script rendered inside seven days, and a script with a little more time and review under its belt.

The ShawShank Redemption (1994) is one of the few films I can think of where voiceover is used frequently throughout the film without much critical complaint. Perhaps critics and audience alike simply enjoy Morgan Freeman’s voice, but the script has used it effectively where showing what’s happening might be too heavy-handed. I’ve hesitated to add this, because I really don’t know who it is Red is speaking to during the film. Is he talking to an unseen audience, voicing an epistolary record, or talking to himself? In the end I chalk this up as speaking to himself; the novel’s author may have been speaking to us, but the character in the movie may believe himself to be speaking to no one given the color of his skin, his social status, and the period of time in which the film is set. Following excerpt from script here. 295 INT -- GREYHOUND BUS STATION -- DAY (1967) 295 TRACKING SHOT reveals a long line of people at the counter. RED (V.O.) For the second time in my life, I am guilty of committing a crime. CAMERA brings us to Red, next in line, bag by his feet. RED (V.O.) Parole violation. I doubt they'll toss up any roadblocks for that. Not for an old crook like me. RED (steps up) McNary, Texas? 296 EXT -- TRAVELING SHOT -- DAY (1967) 296 A gorgeous New England landscape whizzes by, fields and trees a blur of motion. ANGLE SHIFTS to reveal a Greyhound Sceni- Cruiser barreling up the road, pulling abreast of us. CAMERA TRAVELS from window to window, passing faces. We finally come to Red gazing out at the passing landscape. RED (V.O.) I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain... 297 THE BUS 297 ROARS past camera, dwindling to a mere speck on the horizon. RED (V.O.) I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. (beat) I hope. 298 EXT -- BEACH -- WIDE PANORAMIC SHOT -- DAY (1967) 298 A distant boat lies on its side in the sand like an old wreck that's been left to rot in the sun. There's someone out there. Video clip here Red has played his cards close to his vest because he is about to break the terms of his parole; even the audience can’t be absolutely certain as to his aims. Without hearing Red speak, we can only guess at what is going on between the time a bus ticket is purchased and Red arrives on the beach; we can only guess at Red’s thoughts and expectations. One might wonder if this segment and the underlying them of hope had a long reach; did it consciously or unconsiously shape Shepard Fairey’s iconic Hope poster for the 2008 Obama for America campaign?