Number One with a Bullitt

by Joe Sikoryak

The halls of the Roosevelt Hotel aren't usually alive with the sound of music, but last Friday afternoon there was a special beat in the air. A 5/4 beat to be specific---and a passerby might have thought the lobby music had been inexplicably cranked up a couple of notches. But then, that wouldn't explain the sudden break in the music, through which a heavily-accented voice softly admonished "One more time, from the top..."

Hours later, a hundred people gathered in the hotel ballroom, newly remodeled and bright. This tiny space was, 71 years ago, the location for the first Academy Awards. Today a different, more intimate, but no less meaningful award ceremony was unfolding: the Film Music Society was presenting its annual career achievement award to Lalo Schifrin. And for a number of reasons, this event held a special resonance.

The evening started with an introduction by the new president of the Society, Elmer Bernstein. Gracious as ever, he called out the names of some of the composers in attendance; his "old" pal Hershel Burke Gilbert; visiting New Mexico scholar Fred Steiner; the gentlemanly John Scott; the ever-jovial Alf Clausen, film music icon David Raksin. And while he tempered his remarks with a continuing critique of the current film music scene, he remembered that the group had gathered to honor the past, present, and future accomplishments of Mr. Schifrin.

The first order of business was another presentation, the annual film music preservation award. Emcee and former award winner Nick Redman pointed out that not every hero of preservation had to brave toxic vaults of decomposing tape and film stock, followed by a week in a respirator. No, some heroes braved indifference and neglect to see that music is saved in score form for future generations--and such is the ongoing work of Stephen M. Fry, music librarian of UCLA.

Then the room's attention was shifted to the guest of honor. One by one, members of the audience rose to pay homage to the Argentinian arranger-conductor-composer. Actress Barbara Bain, one-time member of the Impossible Missions Force, spoke of the "special crucible" of the show's early years, and how Lalo's music reverberated through the cast even while they were on the set. Society secretary Christopher Young spoke affectionately of Lalo's impact and inspiration on his younger generation of composers, and his deep appreciation for the simple eloquence of TV themes like "Mannix." "Long after this building is gone, your music will endure," he waxed.

Director Brett Ratner told the story of how he fought with studio executives in order to hire Lalo for Money Talks. Sadly, Lalo wasn't on anyone's short list at the time, except Ratner's, who had been tracking his childhood film efforts with Enter the Dragon since the age of eight. Of course he won the argument, and they went on to do a second film as well, Rush Hour, garnering huge grosses and popular acclaim. And Jerry Goldsmith concluded the tribute with his own recollections of his early days in television along side Lalo--who, apparently, Jerry loves dearly, even if he claims not to understand a word Lalo says. "I mean, you've been here how long?"

As Bernstein presented the award to Lalo Schifrin, no one had any trouble understanding what was being said. In fact, a deep, affectionate bond was made between the winner and his audience, who may have been peers, professionals, and friends, but who were all clearly fans. Lalo recalled a quote attributed to him at the time of his immigration to the States: When asked at customs if he had anything to declare, he reportedly said, "Only my dreams." That's a good line, and Lalo modestly demurred that it was "too good for him" to have said...but he clearly felt that his dream had been realized after all. The kid who went to films a dozen times just to hear the score had produced scores that we all enjoy, over and over again.

As his way of saying thanks, Lalo offered a special treat. Remember that 5/4 beat in the hallways? That was Lalo warming up with Frank Capp's Big Band, and he took the stage for a brief but wonderful performance. Working from his own transcriptions for a 20-piece ensemble, he shook the house with a gutsy rendition of the main title from Bullitt, with the bassist and guitar wailing under the piercing flutes, and big, bold, brass flourishes. Next up was a beloved Count Basie-styled piece from Rollercoaster ("Blues for Basie") followed up by two vocals. Sandra Booker gave a soulful rendition of Cool Hand Luke ("Down Here on the Ground") and belted out The Cincinatti Kid to the swinging acompaniment.

But there's only one signature tune from Lalo Schifrin and nobody was going to budge from their chairs until they heard it. The real treat came when the guest of honor himself sat at the piano and led his orchestra into the main title from Mission: Impossible. Some artists display a love/hate relationship with their big hits, but Lalo tore into this chestnut with the verve you'd expect from someone just starting out. The audience would have been polite regardless, but his performance brought everyone to their feet. Film music fans don't get to hear a decent live performance very often, but this was transcendent. Lalo has more than his dreams to declare, he has his talent. And we are all richer for the experience. Mission Impossible, indeed.

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