As the bombs are falling in Tehran by the US/Israeli military, which, by all indication, seems like another Middle Eastern conflict that won't end well, if it ends at all, comes Nadav Lapid's searing satire about an artist sucking up to a militaristic, patriotic fervor of a nation, in order to have a good life, even if it means leaving his conscience at the door.
Just like his previous two films, Synonyms and Ahed's Knee, Yes is a semi-biographical and unapologetically angry film.
The film's frenetic, energetic first half is all about debauchery: endless drug- and booze-fueled dance parties for the rich and the powerful, set to EDM. Y (Ariel Bronz), a pianist, and his dancer wife Yasmin (Efrat Dor) are there to entertain them with sexy dance moves and crazy antics. They make no bones about their depravity and humiliation in the hands of these people who rule the State of Israel.
In one scene at a pool party, Y goes on a bender, drowns, and gets revived for their entertainment. At another, Y and Yasmin tongue fuck an old rich lady in her ear until she comes.
They go home to their small Tel Aviv apartment to tend to their toddler son, after one depraved party after another. But they can't escape from daily news reports on their phones of bombs and destruction raining down in Gaza, even while walking through the beautiful, pristine beaches of Tel Aviv as a backdrop, where people are jogging and laughing, and colorful paragliders are jigjagging in the bright blue skies.
In light of the October 7th attacks, Y is tasked to compose a new national anthem to stir up the patriotic sentiment of the nation. This will be his and his family's ticket out. But where could they go?
The energetic tempo of the first half comes to a screeching halt, as Y dyes his hair blonde and sneaks out to the desert for "inspiration" to compose his assignment. There he meets his ex-flame, Leah (Naama Preis), now begrudgingly in charge of running the IDF social media team.
Their disdain about what's going on is mutual. They share their war-time anecdotes from their parents' generation in WWII: "How could they go on living while atrocities are committed?" Of course, their parents were talking about old Europe during genocide of the Jewish people.
The irony is not lost on Y and Leah as they watch smoke billowing over Gaza from a hill near the border. In a long monologue, Leah recites the atrocities committed by Hamas on Oct. 7th. Yes, what happened that day is horrifying. But everything the Netanyahu government did afterwards made everyone in the world hate them. 'Where could we go? Everybody hates us,' they conclude.
Conceived before the October 7th attacks in 2023, and revised continuously throughout until the film's world premiere at Cannes in 2025, Yes is a loud satire that reflects the uncomfortable present that the artistic community find themselves in, between a rock and a hard place, in an increasingly military fascist state.
The cringey inducing literal circle-jerk bootlicking scene might be too abrasive and over the top; the satire of Yes is way too close to home to be funny. Y and Yasmin know it too.
It's written in their agonizing faces and actions, fully acknowledging the cowardice and pain of others, while trying to escape their predicament by turning a blind eye to what's going on around them. It's an obnoxiously pointy and honest, yet sad film.
Yes opens Friday, March 27, in New York and Friday, April 3, in Los Angeles with national rollout to follow, via Kino Lorbar. Visit their officlal site for locations and showtimes.
Dustin Chang is a freelance writer. His musings and opinions on everything cinema and beyond can be found at www.dustinchang.com