Best wishes to these people obviously but I’m WHEEZING at the concept of a standard horror plot starter but the stranded travelers are an entire fully equipped orchestra.

It’s the prequel to every other horror film. Their haunting spirits play the background music.

Oh shoot, that actually would be a really cool concept. The film starts with no thematic music, and as each member of the orchestra is picked off, their instrument joins the soundtrack. Subtly, so you don’t really notice, and the end credits are a full orchestral symphony.

DUUUUUDE

Call that a death note

That entire thing could also be used brilliantly for foreshadowing!

Like, you suddenly notice a string instrument in the background music and you haven’t seen a few of them in a while. And the more musically versed you are, the more you figure it out (like in a mystery novel if you happen to have in-depth knowledge about the current riddle) while the “normal” people can get fooled into twists.

The non-musically versed audience hears a new brass instrument and is like “Oh shit, the dude with the tenor horn is probably dead!”, but then he suddenly appears perfectly fine and one minute later they find the body of the Euphonium player.

And if the orchestra members can hear it as well, then it’s of course another layer cause THEY would probably recognize who is playing. And depending on the director, they could go full ‘Tomato in the Mirror’ and imply they know but Just. Not. Say it. (cause why should they, they all DO KNOW). So they are like “Oh no…. No…!” and start looking for the corpse while the audience is still stuck at “Ok, a violin player, but which???”

Ok not to take a sharp left turn into the absurd, but I high-key want the culprit behind the murders to be a haunted otamatone

Partially because it’s an uncommon, silly little instrument and no one would expect it — but mostly because I am absolutely in love with the mental image of— I mean—

Just imagine one of these suckers drifting ponderously through the ruined halls of a long-abandoned castle, its beady, soulless eyes glowing red as hellfire in that bloodless, bone-white face. An unholy wind whips up from nowhere; sheets of music tear from silent stands to surround that deceptively tiny form in swirling, unnatural frenzy.

It cracks a mocking, mirthless grin, revealing a pitch-black void where teeth and tongue should be — and, inevitable as the death of stars, the creature begins to sing.

An instrument joins. First one, then two, then all the rest: Commanded by that ungodly voice, the Orchestra of the Damned must play.

phantoms of the orchestra