There are concerts you enjoy for an evening. Then there are concerts that quietly unlock entire chapters of your life. The Queensland Symphony Orchestra’s celebration of the music of John Williams did exactly that for me.
I went as a movie fan. These scores are stitched into my memory through cinema seats, VHS tapes, streaming marathons. I know them emotionally more than technically. Hearing them played live by a full orchestra shifted something. The music felt bigger, warmer, more alive than I’d ever realised.
They opened with Star Wars, that blazing brass fanfare filling the hall with instant recognition. You could feel the collective lift of energy in the room. Decades fall away in seconds when that theme begins.
The nod to Jaws was clever. We didn’t get the entire iconic theme. Just those two famous notes, emerging quietly from the lower strings like something circling beneath the surface. A ripple of laughter and tension ran through the audience during anecdotes about the iconic theme’s creation. Then the orchestra pivoted into the music underscoring the men setting out on the boat – buoyant and almost jaunty. Gradually, rhythms grew restless. Brass and percussion drove the sound into something wilder, more chaotic, capturing the frenzy and fear as the hunt unravelled. It was a pinnacle of storytelling through sound.
The soaring theme from E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial floated up at another moment in the program, the strings carrying it with such tenderness that it caught me off guard. I hadn’t thought about that film in years, yet the melody brought back the feeling of wonder, of looking up at the night sky and believing anything was possible. I might have even had a tiny tear fall down my face thinking of poor ET captured by the government and getting swept up in the nostalgia swimming around in my head.
Five simple tones from Close Encounters of the Third Kind rang out with clarity and space around them. In the concert hall, those notes felt almost fragile. The vastness they suggest on screen translated into something intimate and human. That piece has a really unnerving quality about it in parts, and hearing that at scale was quite something.
The lush, open-hearted theme from Jurassic Park unfolded with sweeping grandeur. On screen it underscores towering dinosaurs; in the theatre it becomes something even more expansive. I honestly think it’s impossible to hear that theme and not feel that something so incredibly important is taking place right in front of you.
Adventure burst through with Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. That march has bounce and swagger built into it. The orchestra leaned into its energy, crisp and bright, and it was impossible not to feel a surge of excitement.
The emotional weight of the evening ran deep as well. The violin solo from Schindler’s List was played with aching restraint, the sound hanging in the air long after the final note. Music from Angela’s Ashes brought a reflective warmth, gentle and lyrical.
The triumphant theme composed for the 1984 Summer Olympics sounded expansive and ceremonial, filling the hall with bold optimism. It was a reminder that Williams’ music has underscored moments far beyond the cinema.
A sprinkle of magic appeared later with the Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone themes. The story the orchestra shared made it even more captivating: Williams composed the Hedwig’s Theme for an early ad slot for the film, before he had even seen a single frame. Somehow, those first few notes perfectly captured magic, flight, and the sense of wonder that would define the entire movie.
Throughout the night, anecdotes about Williams’ collaborations and the realities of writing for film were woven between the pieces. Stories about deadlines, quips with film directors, and sudden flashes of inspiration added texture. They revealed the craftsmanship behind melodies.
What struck me most was how complete this music feels without a screen. The orchestra gave it dimension and colour I hadn’t fully appreciated before. Strings shimmered. Brass blazed. Woodwinds slipped through with quiet detail. I’m not a music scholar. I’m someone who loves movies. Yet sitting there, listening closely, I felt newly aware of the skill required to bring these scores to life.
Film music has a powerful way of reconnecting people with orchestral sound. These themes already live in us. Hearing them performed live deepens that connection. You begin to notice the layers. You feel the sound resonate through the room. The experience becomes shared, immediate, human.
Nights like these blend the familiar thrill of the movies with a deeper appreciation of the musicians’ skill and the composer’s genius. Programs that mix widely loved film scores with orchestral brilliance are clever for a reason — they invite audiences into the theatre, into the music itself. If a handful of notes from a beloved film can make you lean forward in awe, imagine what the QSO can do across their full season. From other cinematic favorites to symphonic masterpieces, every program is an opportunity to hear the orchestra shine, to discover new music, and to experience why live performance has a power that recordings can’t match. If this night reminded you how thrilling live music can be, explore the rest of the QSO program — it might just open the door to a deeper love of music you didn’t know was waiting.
Check out the rest of Queensland Symphony Orchestra’s 2026 season here.
In her spare time, she likes long walks down the makeup aisle and performing in Brisbane theatre. You can follow her adventures on Instagram and TikTok @thebeautypalate.
