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The most embarrassing monologue of Morgan Freeman's career
The dulcet tones of Morgan Freeman are always a joy to listen to, but even a sonorous superstar can be tripped up by some truly woeful dialogue.
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(Credits: Far Out / Nathan Congleton)
Film Âť Cutting Room Floor
Fri 24 January 2025 17:15, UK
Itâs mad to think that Morgan Freeman was 30 years into his stage and screen career before anybody realised that his distinctively sonorous and syrupy voice was perfectly suited to voiceovers and narrations.
The actor didnât wake up one day and decide he was going to craft one of the most soothing cadences in cinema history, but for whatever reason, no filmmaker in the industry hired him to weaponise it in the recording booth. The man could read the phonebook and make it sound captivating, yet it wasnât until The Shawshank Redemption that Freeman got his first shot at narration.
It remains one of his most distinctive voice-only contributions, and it kicked down the doors, opened the floodgates, and gave rise to a subgenre. The Academy Award-winning veteran has since gone on to narrate a weird and wonderful array of projects, ranging from Steven Spielbergâs War of the Worlds and March of the Penguins to The Mona Lisa Myth and Netflixâs Life On Our Planet.
It isnât just narration either; Freemanâs lyrical syntax also makes him a perfect delivery system for a verbose monologue. Sometimes, it can come across as self-indulgent when a screenwriter pens a lengthy exchange that requires one actorâs character to hold the audienceâs attention for an extended period of time, but there are few whoâve mastered the art of cinematic soliloquy better than Freeman.
Still, giving him the words to say doesnât automatically make them worth saying, as proven by his woeful diatribe in Lucky Number Slevin. Director Paul McGuiganâs twisty 2006 crime thriller is one of those movies that constantly feels like itâs trying far too hard to be cool, with writer Jason Smilovicâs script arriving a decade too late to the faux-Tarantino craze that swept independent cinema.
Josh Hartnettâs protagonist enters a room wearing nothing but a towel, where Freemanâs character known only as âThe Bossâ tries his hardest to descend a staircase as threateningly as possible, with his opening line referencing an animated figure that resembles a bowling pin with legs that first appeared in a 1948 comic strip: âAre you familiar with the Shmoo, Mr Fisher?â
âThe Shmoo was a loveable creature, really,â he intones. âLaid eggs, gave milk, and died of sheer ecstasy when looked at with hunger. The Shmoo loved to be eaten. It could taste like any food you desire. Shmoo hide, cut thin, made fine leather. Even Shmoo whiskers made excellent toothpicks. In essence, the Shmoo supplied all of the worldâs wants. I only bring up the case of the Shmoo because of its relevance to you.â
Writing elaborate monologues based on obscure pop culture references had gone out of fashion long before the mid-2000s, and itâs clear the script thought it was cute and clever. Instead, even with Freeman doing his best to inject some gravitas into the dialogue, itâs a cringeworthy example of the damage Tarantino inadvertently caused to genre cinema.
In the grand scheme of things, the Shmoo has fuck all to do with what Freeman is actually talking about; itâs just there for the screenwriter to pat themselves on the back. Without a doubt, itâs the worst use of Freemanâs greatest asset, and thereâs a high chance he had absolutely no idea what a Shmoo was when he was saying it.
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