Yes Review: Nadav Lapid’s Crackling Satire Is A Blistering, Audacious Rebuke Of Israeli Nationalism

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The film opens with a shot of George Grosz’s painting, The Pillars of Society, displayed in a coffee table book after a lavish and unrestrained party. We are introduced to Yud (Ariel Bronz), a free-spirited musician, and his wife, Yasmine (Efrat Dor), performing at an extravagant event filled with drugs and loud electronic dance music. In a reckless act, Yud lets the well-dressed guests toss him around while a remix of La Bouche’s “Be My Lover” plays. They dunk his head into increasingly brightly colored liquids from the buffet before he falls backward into a swimming pool.

The film draws inspiration from the paintings of George Grosz, who criticized the wealthy elite in Germany during and after World War I. Grosz was appalled by the rise of extreme nationalism, and director Amos Lapid, known for his critical films about his own government, presents a modern parallel to Nazism in his film Yes. The fact that the characters are Jewish is a secondary point. Lapid suggests that, just as many Germans ignored the suffering of others, contemporary Israeli society does the same. The film shows Y and Yasmine going about their daily lives while news of violence and destruction plays out in the background, highlighting this contrast.

Through Formal Invention & Cynical Satire, Yes Questions Israeli Nationalism

The film Yes is set in Tel Aviv, beginning right after the Hamas attack on October 7th. The main characters, Y and Yasmine, are simultaneously celebrating the birth of their first child when their lives are disrupted by the ongoing conflict, which former Israeli Prime Minister Yair Lapid described as a “Gaza bloodbath.” For over fifteen years, the director has used his films to critique Israel, portraying what he calls “the Israeli disease” through his characters – a term he used during a Q&A session at AFI Fest in Los Angeles.

Yossi Lapid views a dangerous trend in Israel: a reluctance to acknowledge the difficult realities that underpin everyday life. These realities – including historical and ongoing issues like segregation, discrimination, the threat of violence, and required military service – form a constant, unsettling backdrop to the lives depicted in his work, Yes. Lapid, who had been living in France, returned to Israel after the October 7th attacks and quickly felt overwhelmed by the devastation. He describes the experience of Yes as capturing the strange feeling of continuing a normal life while surrounded by chaos and suffering, like living with a terminal illness.

The first hour of Yes feels similar to the films of Godard, using unusual filmmaking techniques to critique Israeli propaganda. The movie is often funny, but also deeply moving, and constantly pushes the limits of what cinema can do. We see Y and Yasmine going about everyday life – cooking and caring for their baby – when moments of harsh reality break in. For example, a lively dance party is quickly overshadowed by news of bombings. While Y is frying an egg, he receives a notification that 93 people have died in a building collapse, and we briefly hear sounds of distress and debris. Life goes on, and the phone is put away.

Yasmine and Y attend a lavish party celebrating Israel’s 76th anniversary, filled with prominent figures from Tel Aviv. There, they meet Avinoam (played by Sharon Alexander), a tanned, blonde man who constantly vapes and seems to embody Israeli public relations. He immediately addresses the audience directly, accusing them of antisemitism for not fully supporting Israel’s actions, and admits that Israel is using ‘war’ as a guise to pursue its own goals.

On the boat, Avinoam explains how propaganda is created, dramatically illustrating his point by shaking his head until it seems to transform into a TV screen. Meanwhile, Y and Yasmine are struggling financially, and Y desperately seeks an opportunity to improve their situation by appealing to a wealthy tech executive, Aleksey Serebryakov, known as Big Billionaire or The Russian. He’s assigned to compose music for a new national anthem, a deeply unsettling song commissioned by a right-wing group. The lyrics, written to accompany a reworked version of a beloved patriotic tune from 1947, shockingly celebrate the destruction of Gaza.

Following a chaotic first hour, the latter part of Yes takes a (slightly) more subdued turn. Y appears to prioritize his successful new project over his responsibilities to Yasmine and their son, Noah, while Yasmine grows increasingly desperate to receive payment from her job at the gym. Meanwhile, Y travels to the countryside and reconnects with a past love, Lea, a former military guide. As they reminisce about their relationship, they drive near the Gaza border, contemplating whether their country has changed forever.

In a particularly raw and painful part of the book, Lea vividly describes the devastating hours a family experienced as they were torn apart by insurgents. She points out that it’s impossible for outsiders to fully understand life in Gaza, just as it’s impossible to truly grasp what it’s like to be Israeli. Lapid seems to believe the issue isn’t just the loss of Palestinian lives, but also the lasting impact of Zionist ideology. Ultimately, the question remains: who truly gains from all this violence?

The film subtly criticizes a society overwhelmed by indulgence and disconnected by its freedoms. The prominent, pulsing music in the first half alludes to the music festival where the Hamas attack began, prompting a question: how did the country allow things to become so detached from reality that such an event could even happen – let alone turn into a scene of horrific violence?

Y is increasingly prioritizing financial gain over ethical considerations when working for the government, and Lapid highlights how easily people accept information from state-controlled media. One day, while in a park, Y reads disturbing news about deaths in Gaza, immediately followed by a report claiming the army is trying to minimize harm to civilians. Y silently tells himself, “I believe the Army,” and puts his phone away – a darkly humorous acknowledgment that he’s choosing to believe what he wants to believe, despite the conflicting information.

The film Yes is a surprisingly funny and moving protest piece. Director Shai Goldman uses a fluid camera style, almost as if the film itself is thoughtfully observing the events unfolding. This approach raises important questions about our role as viewers – what does it mean to witness suffering, and what responsibility do we have when watching a group of people face the potential loss of everything? One character, Yasmine, dramatically declares over dinner, “I want to kill our parents, they sold us a world that doesn’t exist.” For the film’s creator and characters, the core question becomes: what do we do with the world we actually have? Both Y and Yasmine long to leave Israel in search of a better life, but the film explores whether leaving is a luxury, a burden, or simply a way to survive.

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2025-10-28 23:31