Renee’s Monologue from The Astronaut’s Chair by Rona Munro
"I blame the Mexican food. Had to be that. I have never ever lost my cookies before a flight..."
Overview of The Astronaut’s Chair
The Astronaut’s Chair by Rona Munro tells the gripping story of a trailblazing woman pilot navigating a male-dominated field of aviation. Renee’s monologue is a vivid and darkly humorous recollection of a harrowing night before a race, blending wit, grit, and raw emotion. This piece is a fantastic choice for actors who want to showcase storytelling prowess, emotional range, and resilience.
Character Breakdown: Renee
Name: Renee
Age: Mid-30s to 40s
Background: Renee is a determined and trailblazing female aviator in a field dominated by men. She’s resilient, sharp-witted, and fiercely independent, though deeply affected by the dangers and gender biases of her career.
Who the Character is Talking To in This Moment: Renee is recounting her experience to an audience, using humor and vivid detail to mask the underlying trauma.
What’s Just Happened: Renee recalls a night before a race, when she witnessed the horrific crash and death of a fellow pilot. Despite the fear and pressure, she took off as planned and made history.
The Monologue
I blame the Mexican food. Had to be that. I have never ever lost my cookies before a flight. That was the only time. I was the only woman in that race and the engine in my bird was experimental. My race slot was 3 a.m. By 1 a.m. we've got fog, dark and wet as full fathom five. I was sitting in this police car to keep warm. Two officers are sitting in with me, feeding me little nips out their flask and joking with me, but they're watching me sideways as the night gets blacker and thicker. Those boys have something on their mind. They have an opinion about my chances of getting airborne. I have to keep cracking jokes, keep making them laugh so they don't pop right out with that dark, damp opinion. (Takes a drink.) At about 2.15 there's a terrible noise in the fog at the end of the runway. You know that noise metal makes when it tears like paper? It screams.
So one of the boys in blue gets out to see. Ten minutes later he's back again. 'I want you to see this, Renee,' he says. Face like a funeral director. He walks me down to the end. I've still got my heels on. You know, I always keep the whole outfit looking sharp till the minute I close the canopy on the cockpit. Never know when a stray photographer might pop out of the shadows, right? I can feel my heels sinking into the damp grass.
There at the end of the runway is a big twisted heap of metal, nose-down in the ground. Used to be a Gee Bee airplane. The grass is wetter yet with all the gas that's pouring out of that thing. Firemen have their hoses going full-blast soaking it. It's a lake of water and gasoline around a pile of metal crumpled like a bit of damp cardboard. There's a sad little heap of something floating in the shallows of that lake. That's what my policeman friend is guiding me towards, warm manly arm round my back.
It's a boy. Or it used to be. Young pilot by the name of Cecil Allen. He's floating about in two inches of water and gasoline. He would be face-down except he has no face. He has no head. It's been taken clean off his shoulders. I only know it's him by what I can see of the plane wreck, his number on the tail. But this isn't what my protective friend wants me to see, he's pointing at something a lot closer. A dark round shape close to my feet, lying on the grass, about the size of a basketball. It's Cecil's head. His eyes are half-open. He's looking up at me. He looks mad as hell if you want to know. I look at Cecil and Cecil looks up at me and since Cecil clearly isn't going to say anything, the policeman says, 'I just wanted you to think about what you're doing here, Renee.'
You know I think the son of a bitch honestly thought he was being helpful.
Well, I made it all the way back to the police car. I sat down. I cracked another few jokes. And then I excused myself to go behind the hangar and I didn't run till I was sure those bastards had stopped looking. Then I threw up. Like I said, I blame the enchiladas. (Takes a drink.) I took off at 3 a.m. as planned. I didn't win the race that year, but I was the first woman to fly it. They didn't make such a fuss about the girls after that.
BROKEN DOWN
"I blame the Mexican food. Had to be that. I have never ever lost my cookies before a flight. That was the only time."
Commentary: Renee opens with humor, immediately setting a conversational and engaging tone. Actors should use this line to draw the audience in, hinting at the darker story beneath.
"I was the only woman in that race and the engine in my bird was experimental. My race slot was 3 a.m. By 1 a.m. we’ve got fog, dark and wet as full fathom five."
Commentary: This section establishes Renee’s pioneering position and the tense atmosphere. Actors should emphasize her determination while setting up the stakes of the scene.
"There at the end of the runway is a big twisted heap of metal, nose-down in the ground. Used to be a Gee Bee airplane..."
Commentary: The vivid description of the crash brings the tension to a peak. Actors should deliver this with a matter-of-fact tone, contrasting the horror of the imagery with Renee’s steely exterior.
"It’s Cecil’s head. His eyes are half-open. He’s looking up at me. He looks mad as hell if you want to know."
Commentary: Renee’s dark humor here highlights her coping mechanism. Actors should balance the shock of the scene with the character’s need to maintain composure.
"Well, I made it all the way back to the police car. I sat down. I cracked another few jokes. And then I excused myself to go behind the hangar and I didn’t run till I was sure those bastards had stopped looking. Then I threw up."
Commentary: This section reveals Renee’s humanity and vulnerability beneath her bravado. Actors should use this moment to show the cracks in her facade.
"I took off at 3 a.m. as planned. I didn’t win the race that year, but I was the first woman to fly it."
Commentary: The monologue concludes with Renee’s resilience and determination. Deliver this with pride and quiet defiance, underscoring her trailblazing spirit.
Suggested New Thoughts Chunking / Paragraphing
Opening Humor: Renee uses humor to introduce her story and set the tone.
Setting the Scene: She describes the tense, foggy night and her unique position as the only woman in the race.
The Crash: Renee vividly recounts the tragic crash and its aftermath, balancing shock with detachment.
Personal Reaction: She reveals her vulnerability, describing her physical and emotional response to the horror.
Defiance and Triumph: Renee concludes with her determination to carry on, highlighting her resilience and trailblazing achievement.
Journey Keypoints
Hook: Renee’s humorous opening grabs the audience’s attention, drawing them into her story.
Turning Point: The vivid description of the crash creates tension and reveals the stakes of her world.
Climax: The discovery of Cecil’s head and the policeman’s comment mark the emotional high point, showcasing Renee’s ability to process trauma through humor.
Resolution: Renee’s decision to fly despite everything underscores her resilience and determination to break barriers.
Performance Tips
Balance Humor and Trauma: Renee uses humor as a coping mechanism. Let the comedy shine while hinting at the pain beneath.
Build the Story: Use pacing and inflection to build suspense, especially when describing the crash and its aftermath.
Embody Resilience: Renee’s toughness is central to her character. Deliver her defiant moments with pride and conviction.
Engage with the Audience: This monologue is conversational. Maintain eye contact and draw the audience into Renee’s world.
Learn with Acting Coach Scotland
Renee’s monologue from The Astronaut’s Chair offers a powerful blend of humor, grit, and emotional depth. At Acting Coach Scotland, we help actors master storytelling and bring complex characters like Renee to life with authenticity and impact.
