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The Hanslick Girls

"Three is company, safe and cheery" -Stephen Sondheim

Tag / Disney

Feeling Spotty: Dodie Smith’s “The Hundred And One Dalmatians” and “The Starlight Barking”

It was relatively quiet in the apartment –– nothing but the tapping of keys as Gwen worked on her laptop, and the papery flutter of Eleanor turning pages in her book –– when the door to Dania’s room suddenly burst open. She stood, holding a copy of The Starlight Barking in one hand, and gripping the door frame with white knuckles.

Gwen looked up, and immediately grinned in anticipation. This face, this exact reaction, was precisely the reason why she had suggested the pair of books to her friends in the first place. While Eleanor hadn’t quite delivered, the expression now frozen to Dania’s face was more than enough.”

“So? How was it?” Eleanor asked, lazily.

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The Cover Is Not The Book: Disney and Rob Marshall’s “Mary Poppins Returns”

As they walked out of the theatre, Hazel was still humming the repetitive melody to “Trip A Little Light Fantastic,” her feet tapping along like the dancers in the film. Her wide grin was a contrast to the more stoic, contemplative look her older sister held as they returned to the parking lot.

“What did you think of the movie, Hazel?” Gwen prompted.

“I loved it!” Hazel shouted. Gwen put a finger to her lips, and Hazel’s head dropped slightly. “Oops,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

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Rekindled Under Water: Disney/PIXAR’s “Finding Dory”

—Originally written June 19, 2016—

Meet the Hanslick Girls: Gwen, Eleanor and Dania. Created by writer Zach Barr, they are a trio of Northwestern students who always go to see art together. They may not have the same opinions, but their conversations tend to make for an entertaining read. Recently, the Girls saw “Finding Dory,” PIXAR’s recently released sequel to 2003’s “Finding Nemo.” Let’s hear what they had to say on their way back from the theater…

 

The dull thumping of feet coming from the hallway informed Eleanor’s mother that her daughter was on her way to the living room. Tearing in between the boxes, still waiting to be unpacked, Eleanor’s head poked into view as she held aloft a plastic turtle and soared him through the air in the apartment.

“Gnarly, dude!” Eleanor said, loudly. She wove around the nearly empty apartment, the plastic toy leading the way as her mother watched from behind the kitchen counter. “You so totally rock, Squirt!”

Her mother laughed.

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