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Last Tango in Paris Monologue

Last Tango in Paris by Bernardo Bertolucci
Character: Paul
Gender: Male
Age (range): 18 - 55
Style: Drama
Length: 4 minutes

 

Paul: You look ridiculous in that makeup. Like a caricature of a whore. A little touch of mommy in the night. Fake Ophelia drowned in the bathtub. I wish you could see yourself. You'd really laugh. You're your mother's mastepiece. There's too many f#@king flowers in this place. I can't breathe. You know, in the top of the closet, cardboard box, I found all your -- I found all your little goodies. Pens, key chains, foreign money, French ticklers, the whole shot. Even a clergymen's collar. I didn't know you collected all those little knick-knacks left behind.
Even if a husband lives ... 200 f#@king years, he's never gonna be able to discover his wife's true nature. I mean, I -- I might be able to comprehend the universe ... but I'll never discover the truth about you. Never. I mean, who the hell were you?
Remember that day, the first day I was there? I knew I couldn't get into your pants unless I said, uh... What did I say? Oh, yes. Uh, "May I have my bill, please? I have to leave." Remember?
Last night, I ripped off the lights on your mother and the whole joint went bananas. All your guests, as you used to call them. Well, I guess that includes me, doesn't it? Huh? It does include me, doesn't it? For five years I was more a guest in this f#@king flophouse than a husband. With privileges, of course. Then, to help me understand, you let me inherit Marcel, the husband's double whose room was the double of ours. And you know what? I didn't even have the guts to ask him, didn't even have the guts to ask him if the same numbers you and I did were the same numbers you did with him. Our marriage was nothing more than a... a foxhole for you and all it took for you to get out was a 35-cent razor and a tub full of water. You cheap, g*[email protected] f#@king, godforsaken whore, I hope you rot in hell. You're worse than the dirtiest street pig that anyone could find anywhere, and you know why? You know why? Because you lied. You lied to me and I trusted you. You lied, you knew you were lying. C'mon, tell me you didn't lie. Haven't you got anything to say about that? You can think up something, can't you? Huh? Go on, tell me something. Go on, smile, you c#nt. Go on. Tell me something sweet. Smile at me and say that I just misunderstood. Go on, tell me... you pig f#@ker. You g*[email protected] f#@king, pig-f#@king liar.
Rosa, I'm sorry -- I ... I just can't-- I can't stand it... to see these g*[email protected] things on your face. You never wore makeup, all this f#@king sh!t. I'm gonna take this off your mouth. Lipstick. Rosa. Oh, God. I'm sorry. I, I don't know why you did it. I'd do it too, if I knew how. I just don't know-- I just have to find a way.