“Is this a show that we can even review?” asked Gwen.
Eleanor considered the question, more for wording than for content. “‘Review’ is a strong word,” she finally spoke. “We usually just discuss. You’re not scheduled to formally review this one, right?”
“No, they sent a different critic,” Gwen replied. “I only mean…”
“Ten years?”
Eleanor had gotten used to the dread that came with each notification on her phone –– keeping up with the news had drained her, but out of a maligned sense of civic responsibility, she continued to do so. Of course, every now and then, the clouds parted and gave her respite to discuss something more enjoyable.
“Ten years since what?” Gwen asked.
“This music video is ten years old now!”
“Intermission!” cried the emcee, the first English she had spoken during her appearances between the pieces so far. As she and her English translating counterpart shuffled off the stage, the lights rose in the theatre.
Gwen, for her part, immediately grabbed her program, pulling it open to the lyrics of the song that had closed out the act. Performed by a tenor who strained for his highest notes, the song “Heaven Awaits” was a bel canto aria composed by the production’s artistic director, D.F.
“What do you think D.F. stands for?” Dania said, pointing to the leader’s name in the program. His headshot, adorning the title page, obscured his eyes behind dark, tinted glasses.
“Falun Dafa?” Eleanor suggested. “Maybe it’s a fake name.”
The Hanslick Girls 