Adav Lapid’s “Yes”: A Controversial Exploration of Israeli Society

Adav Lapid’s film “Yes” draws intriguing parallels to George Gross, cranking up the intensity with sexual imagery and a stylized, confrontational approach that reveals the political agony of its subjects. It starkly condemns the Israeli elite, depicting them as disconnected from the suffering in Gaza. Yet, it also tenderly examines the trauma faced by those affected by the violence stemming from the events of October 7th.

Inspired by the activist group Civic Front, the film features a reinterpretation of Haim Gouri’s classic song “Hareut” with new lyrics advocating for the end of violence in Gaza. This fictional take on the song serves to resonate with its audience, while also drawing parallels to the original’s themes of confronting hatred. Notably, the film makes bold comparisons between Putin’s regime and Israel, pushing boundaries without much subtlety. At one point, it breaks the fourth wall, listing news organizations such as BBC and CNN, before claiming, “…and you’re anti-Israel too!” directly to the viewer.

The story centers on Y (played by Ariel Bronz), a musician firmly entrenched in a world of privilege thanks to his wife Yasmin (Efrat Dor) and her affluent connections. Their life in Tel Aviv appears glamorous and carefree, a stark contrast to those caught in the chaos of terrorism, especially after October 7th.

However, Y’s reality is marred by the recent loss of his mother and the struggles within his cramped living situation. Supported by a wealthy Russian benefactor (Alexei Serebiakov), he teeters on the brink of emotional collapse, grappling with the fallout from the violence of October 7th. Leah, a translator with access to sensitive documents, provides Y with grim insights into the cruelty of that day. Struggling with his own pain, he finds himself at Golanihir, known as the Hill of Love, yearning to express his anguish through poetry.

Like in “Rapid,” the film showcases striking visuals, particularly in its opening party scene filled with a chaotic blend of sensuality and despair. This setting effectively underscores the characters’ emotional detachment. Yet, the film reaches a deeper emotional core in a scene that features Y reflecting on the devastation in Gaza but contrasting it with a lack of understanding of what it means to be Israeli—a paradox that resonates throughout the narrative.

Overall, “Yes” captures a unique, yet painful exploration of identity and societal issues, drawing audiences into its complex emotional landscape.