Monologue Analysis: I Think We Are Alone by Sally Abbott
Character Context
Character: Ange
Age: Not explicitly specified; likely in her 30s
Speaking to: Audience (direct address)
Synopsis
In Sally Abbott's play I Think We Are Alone, Ange, a hospice worker, reflects on her experiences with death and the importance of resolving personal issues before it's too late. Through this monologue, she shares her contemplations on mortality, the value of life, and the necessity of confronting one's own "shit" to live without regrets.
Original Text
I think death is very frightening for people. The most frightening thing they can think of. But for some, it’s a relief. They’re ready. They’re in so much pain, they’re so tired. They want to go. Some just sleep into it, just disappear.
That’s what I’d want. Something quick. I’ve thought about it a lot. How I want to die. Not an accident because. It’s too messy. There’ll be blame and other people involved.
That sounds very morbid. I’m not obsessed with death. I work in a hospice. It’s busy. Never stops. Always full. Oversubscribed. Fifteen deaths a month minimum.
That’s not my favourite thing about the job. People dying. Although it is a. This might sound weird but. It’s a gift to be with someone when they die.
But once they’ve left. Once they’re not suffering. Well, then you’ve got the ones who’ve been left behind and… If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you’ve got to make your peace before it’s too late. You’ve got to deal with your shit. This is your life. This one. It’s not a practice one.
You get one life. One.
You don’t want regrets. And you don’t want to live your life thinking it’s all about what happens on the other side cos, well. That’s like buying a lottery ticket only, y’know, worse odds.
I work a lot with people who have faith. Staff. Patients. Volunteers. And some do have faith. But for some, it’s just their get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s why they volunteer – so God will look down and give them Brownie points.
But I don’t think it works like that. I think God – if she exists – would know exactly what people are like on the inside. I reckon that’s how it would work. Cos, I mean, take Jimmy Savile. No matter how many marathons he ran, how much money he raised, how many times he saw the Pope, Jimmy Savile was always going to Hell.
When people ask me if I have a faith, a religion, I say yes. My religion is Hypocrisy.
Suggested New Thoughts Chunking / Paragraphing
I think death is very frightening for people. The most frightening thing they can think of. But for some, it’s a relief. They’re ready. They’re in so much pain, they’re so tired. They want to go. Some just sleep into it, just disappear.
Ange reflects on the dual nature of death, acknowledging both its fearsome aspect and its potential as a release from suffering.
That’s what I’d want. Something quick. I’ve thought about it a lot. How I want to die. Not an accident because. It’s too messy. There’ll be blame and other people involved.
She contemplates her own mortality, expressing a desire for a peaceful passing and considering the implications of different scenarios.
That sounds very morbid. I’m not obsessed with death. I work in a hospice. It’s busy. Never stops. Always full. Oversubscribed. Fifteen deaths a month minimum.
Ange clarifies her perspective, attributing her thoughts to her professional environment and providing insight into the hospice's demands.
That’s not my favourite thing about the job. People dying. Although it is a. This might sound weird but. It’s a gift to be with someone when they die.
She shares a profound aspect of her work, finding value in providing comfort during patients' final moments.
But once they’ve left. Once they’re not suffering. Well, then you’ve got the ones who’ve been left behind and… If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you’ve got to make your peace before it’s too late. You’ve got to deal with your shit. This is your life. This one. It’s not a practice one.
Ange emphasizes the importance of resolving personal issues, highlighting the finality of life and the necessity of making peace.
You get one life. One.
She underscores the singular opportunity life presents, urging mindfulness in how it's lived.
You don’t want regrets. And you don’t want to live your life thinking it’s all about what happens on the other side cos, well. That’s like buying a lottery ticket only, y’know, worse odds.
Ange advises against living for an uncertain afterlife, comparing it to a gamble with poor chances.
I work a lot with people who have faith. Staff. Patients. Volunteers. And some do have faith. But for some, it’s just their get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s why they volunteer – so God will look down and give them Brownie points.
She observes varying motivations behind expressions of faith, critiquing insincere acts done for divine favor.
But I don’t think it works like that. I think God – if she exists – would know exactly what people are like on the inside. I reckon that’s how it would work. Cos, I mean, take Jimmy Savile. No matter how many marathons he ran, how much money he raised, how many times he saw the Pope, Jimmy Savile was always going to Hell.
Ange asserts that true character is paramount, using Jimmy Savile as an example of outward good deeds masking inner corruption.
When people ask me if I have a faith, a religion, I say yes. My religion is Hypocrisy.
She concludes with a poignant statement on societal duplicity, perhaps hinting at her own disillusionment.
Journey Keypoints
Hook: Ange begins by addressing common fears surrounding death, capturing attention with a universal concern.
Turning Point: She shifts to personal reflections on mortality, providing insight into her experiences and beliefs.
Climax: Ange critiques superficial expressions of faith, challenging societal norms and prompting introspection
About the Playwright: Sally Abbott
Sally Abbott is a British playwright and screenwriter known for her nuanced and empathetic storytelling. Her works often delve into themes of human connection, emotional resilience, and the complexity of modern life. I Think We Are Alone, co-directed by Frantic Assembly's Scott Graham and Kathy Burke, explores themes of grief, reconciliation, and the search for meaning. Abbott’s writing is characterized by its honesty, emotional depth, and ability to resonate with audiences through the exploration of relatable experiences.
