Recommendations of the Editorial team
It doesn’t start with a bang, but with a bacchanal that would have made even Caligula blush. Dressed-up people writhe and rub each other to La Bouche’s “Be My Lover.” Among them are several uniformed soldiers and a rabbi. A woman in a sparkly, skimpy dress kisses random party guests and dances on a table. A man is felling a baguette. Shortly afterwards, others dunked his head into a series of punch bowls. Drunk, he staggers backwards into a pool. A crowd gathers.
The woman takes off her clothes, jumps in and pulls him out. Recovered, he engages in a singing competition with military officers. He shouts it la-da-da-dee-da-da-da-daaah-Hook of the dance anthem. They belt out “Love Me Tender” in a tone reminiscent of a patriotic fight song. Just let her win, she wisely advises him. Finally the soiree ends. The couple spend the early morning hours in a threesome with an elderly socialite – and sucking on her earlobes.
From the first second, “Yes” – the latest project from author and director Nadav Lapid – wants to wake up with a slap in the face. There is no time for pleasantries in an era full of conflict, tragedy and endless nastiness. Lapid is considered to be the most important Israeli filmmaker in generations and is a fixture in world cinema. He specializes in character studies and the relentless questioning of power structures. He says: This story of a creative class trapped in a corrupt system that professionally rewards moral unscrupulousness could have been set in any global city: London, Paris, New York, Los Angeles. According to the director, the original plan was to shoot in America and cast Joaquin Phoenix in the lead role. He meant it as a joke. Possibly.
The fact that Lapid set the film in his hometown of Tel Aviv and shot it in a country with which he has a volatile relationship gives this arsenic-laced satire an additional dimension. Both Israel’s hard-right faction and the far-left have condemned the film. Israel’s Oscar equivalent still gave him a handful of nominations. International distributors praised the filmmaker, but treated the film itself like radioactive waste. “Yes” is by far the most controversial film to hit theaters so far this year. And it is – for all the intoxicating exuberance of Lapid’s excessive style and exuberant narrative – at the same time one of the most sobering and important.
The couple and the pact
The couple we previously watched cavorting with the rich and powerful? They are Y. (Ariel Bronz) and Yasmine (Efrat Dor). He is a pianist and songwriter, she is a dancer. They love their little son Noah. They love their upper-class, bohemian city life. And they love each other dearly. The ménage à trois has given them access to an even more exclusive world, which meets both their desire for social advancement. Above all, he brings her onto the yacht of a Russian oligarch (played by Aleksy Serebryakov, the proven embodiment of post-Soviet patriarchal authority from “Anora” and “Nobody”). He has an offer for Y.: He should write “a new anthem for a new Israel… an anthem for the victorious generation.” If he accepts the assignment, he and his family will be provided for for life. It just costs him his soul.
In the first half of “Yes,” Lapid consistently turns up the volume and tempo to the maximum – there are scenes in which the camera itself seems to convulse. Chaos reigns, whether in set pieces that seem like crazy musical numbers, in party scenes full of Fellini-esque grotesques or in the moment when the passionate… amour fou of the couple ends with both of them banging their heads through a door. Bronz is best known as a performance artist and avant-garde poet, but proves himself to be a first-class physical comedian – all rubber limbs and 10,000 watts of energy. The same goes for Dor, a former ballet dancer who places her character somewhere between seductive slapstick comedy and expressive dance. This is the kind of film that thinks it’s completely normal to include a human caterpillar of sycophants, or the surreal image of a PR guru whose head turns into a screen.
The toxic publicist boasts that he carries in his brain a horrific scene of a massacre committed on a date that is now considered a turning point – and thus becomes a conduit for images so disturbing that we do not see them; only Y. sees her, and the scream he lets out as the film cuts to a long shot is completely sufficient. The specter of October 7, 2023 looms over the film, as does the aftershock that left thousands more dead. And once Y. flees to the border – first in search of inspiration, then to meet Lea (Naama Preis), an old friend and former crush – Lapid slows the pace to something more contemplative. She now works as a translator of testimonies about this tragedy, and the film has her report what she read – in short, hard bursts. Characters also speak explicitly about what is happening in Gaza as smoke rises on the horizon. Massacres give birth to massacres.
The film “Yes”: Lapid’s angry look
There are clues along the way – from a shot of George Grosz’s 1926 painting “The Pillars of Society” to a fourth-wall break in which a character turns to us, the viewers, and asks, “Each of you has a secret that would kill you on the spot if I revealed it… We’re in a war. What have you got?” – which make it unmistakably clear how Lapid feels about the current state of affairs. When we finally hear the fruits of Y’s labor – using an actual propaganda song – we realize we haven’t seen a comedy. “Yes” is actually a horror film in which no amount of swiping on the cell phone can drown out the roar of death. And while Lapid has embedded political perspectives and critiques in everything from his extraordinary 2011 debut “Policeman” to his portrait of an expatriate in 2019’s “Synonyms,” this film feels different — more pointed, far angrier. No amount of outrageousness can hide the outrage.
“There are only two words in the world,” Y. says to his young son as he cycles through the streets and along the beaches of Tel Aviv. “Yes and No. What do you choose?” The film itself functions according to exactly this dichotomy. Can you ignore what is being done in your name? Yes or no. Would you reach for power if it was held against you, no matter the cost? Yes or no. Is such an existential cry into the abyss about how to maintain one’s morality and sense of self while living in a society steeped in numbing pain and nationalism worth subjecting oneself to in the name of difficult questions? This last question is at least easier to answer than the others. The answer is in the title of the film.
