Niv Fichman: skipping class to make movies

TAKE ONE, Sept-Nov, 2002 by Cynthia Amsden

The impetus for the "no compromise" clause is, in Fichman's mind, a matter of sheer will. But do sheer will and sheer ego differ? Technically, will is a passionate desire, a noun and a verb, while ego is an aspect of self--esteem. There is, after all, no such thing as "team ego" while there is collective will. On a practical level, for both Fichman and Yo--Yo, the garden was about getting the project done. On an ideological level, the garden was about the city. Years after the garden's completion and the many awards for Yo--Yo Ma Inspired by Bach (including a Prime Time Emmy for Patricia Rozema's contribution, Six Gestures) Fichman runs through the garden every morning, humming the music as he goes. "The determination to do this wasn't about glorifying myself."

The need to complete is something Fichman believes was instilled as a child--that and a sense of creation, a sense of community. "I would fight to the death for certain things," he explains. Born in Tel Aviv in 1958, his values come from his parents and his Israeli heritage. Fichman's father is an engineer who would have been a pianist had family pressures not steered him in a different direction. His mother was a grade school teacher, and his brother ultimately did become the concert pianist as well as the subject of Fichman's first film, Opus One, Number One (1978), made in conjunction with Willis Sweete. It's his sister, with the house in the suburbs, who teaches ballroom dancing with her husband and has a mainstream career, who he describes as being "probably the happiest of us all."

From the age of 10 Fichman was behind a camera. At the time it was his father's movie camera and he was filming "stupid public school dramas," he recollects, suddenly a little self--conscious. The present day Niv Fichman resides comfortably with the classical masters--Bach, Ravel, Satie and Prokofiev--and the abrupt linkage to a North York public school performance of rank amateurs is making him smile. "They weren't school plays," he adds, realizing he sounded like he'd lurk in a darkened gymnasium with a Kodak during a performance of West Side Story. "They were dramas I created." Back on track, reputation intact, he continues, "I could be really bossy as a producer. There I was, the immigrant kid and kind of insecure about that, but through movies, I could choose the most popular kids and offer them a whole day off school and still get a mark for the project. If you could do that, you were a god." As far back as his early teens, Fichman was able to size up an environment and make it a sanctuary for himself. Formative years, indeed. Now he concedes that thoughts of breaking free of the Rhombus collective have bubbled up to the surface unbidden. But they are resistible for a variety of reasons, one of which is the security of the corporate blanket. "It's not only the reputation of the company, which is very good because Rhombus is a known entity in Canada and in certain circles internationally. Yes, it's good to be from Rhombus, and this environment has everything I need to do the work that I do."