AceShowbiz - Yes is a provocative and unsettling satire directed by Nadav Lapid that explores the complex social and political realities in post-October 7 Israel. The film has stirred intense controversy, drawing sharp criticism from both nationalist hardliners and pro-Palestinian activists, making its release a battle against opposing forces unwilling to embrace its challenging message.

Nadav Lapid describes his predicament succinctly: "Sometimes I felt like the protagonist of a Jewish joke. The Jews call you an antisemite. And the antisemites call you a Jew." This bitter irony has defined the reception of Yes, a film that confronts the painful and divisive aftermath of the Hamas attacks on Israel on October 7, 2023.

The film’s release has faced political backlash, notably from Israel’s culture minister Miki Zohar, who condemned Lapid and Yes for allegedly tarnishing the image of “our pure and sanctified IDF soldiers.” Some critics also targeted the director for accepting funding from the Israeli Film Fund, accusing him of complicity by benefiting from state resources while delivering such a critical work.

Lapid explains the polarized reaction the movie has provoked: "The movie has evoked anger from the right-wing Jewish community and from people who define themselves as left wing." He points out how the film unsettles viewers by directly addressing the human forces behind the ongoing conflict in Gaza, leading to harsh accusations including being labeled "worse than Goebbels" and a "collaborator with genocide." Such responses illustrate the discomfort caused by the film’s unflinching lens on Israeli society.

This tension between resistance and acquiescence is a hallmark of Lapid’s filmmaking. His works have consistently probed Israeli identity and the artist’s place under state pressure. His acclaimed films like Synonyms (2019), winner of the Berlin Golden Bear, and Ahed’s Knee (2021), recipient of Cannes’ Jury Prize, both tackle themes of nationalism, censorship, and personal rebellion. Yet, with Yes, Lapid explores a new psychological terrain—shifting from a narrative of refusal to one of reluctant acceptance.

Reflecting on his body of work, Lapid observes, "I felt I had become a director of 'no' movies. My protagonists were always shouting 'No!' and running into closed doors. But there comes a moment, psychologically, when you want to say 'Yes,' you want to be 'good.' But what does it mean to be good in a bad world?" This internal conflict drives the narrative of Yes.

The film’s plot centers on Y., a jazz musician played by Ariel Bronz, and his wife Yasmin, a dancer portrayed by Efrat Dor. Facing financial hardships and ethical fatigue, they decide to surrender to the pressures of Israel’s socio-political and military elite after years of resistance. Their submission is framed as a troubling “yes,” a capitulation to the forces shaping their country.

Lapid depicts this submission with stark, grotesque imagery. In one striking scene, Y. performs a frenzied, sexually charged dance at an IDF elite party, including bizarre acts such as fellating a baguette and engaging in a dance-off with military generals to La Bouche’s “Be My Lover.” The couple later degrades themselves by literally licking the boots of a Russian oligarch, played by Aleksei Serebryakov.

A pivotal element of the film is Y.’s commission to compose a new national anthem, updating a classic Hebrew song with lyrics calling for the destruction of Gaza: "In one year there will be nothing left living there ... We'll annihilate them all." This chilling anthem is not invented for the film but is a verbatim reproduction of a real song by the anti-Palestinian group Civic Front. The film’s final scenes juxtapose this anthem with footage of children singing it in a staged music video, heightening the disturbing effect.

Lapid began crafting Yes before the October 7 attacks but rewrote the film in response to the Hamas assault that resulted in approximately 1,200 deaths and around 250 hostages. Returning to Israel from France, he encountered an artistic community galvanized to depict the horrors of Hamas, with pop singers performing for soldiers and a pervasive call for “Revenge” and “Vengeance.”

This atmosphere—combined with Israel’s overwhelming military retaliation, including estimates published in The Lancet of over 75,000 deaths in Gaza—permeates the film. The protagonist Y. is bombarded with push notifications of casualties on his phone, which he dismissively swipes away. Seeking meaning, he visits Golani Hill overlooking Gaza, surveying a landscape of devastation beneath a smoke-filled sky.

Producing Yes was fraught with challenges. Dozens of Israeli technicians declined to work on the film, and actors expressed fear about participating. Securing insurance to shoot near the Gaza border amid ongoing strikes was a major hurdle. Just days before filming, a missile attack hit Tel Aviv, forcing the French crew to seek shelter in municipal bunkers for hours.

International financiers also hesitated. Many French backers preferred to avoid taking sides in the conflict, invoking a line attributed to Jean-Luc Godard about Holocaust objectivity—"Give five minutes for the Jews and five minutes for Hitler." This reluctance reflected a widespread fear of engaging with such a divisive and politically charged project.

When Yes premiered at Cannes’ Directors’ Fortnight, it received critical praise but struggled to find distributors willing to take the risk. Lapid recounts how distributors told him they admired the film but feared releasing it. At one festival, a major European distributor insisted on a secret meeting to avoid public association, as if Lapid were a "forbidden lover." This fear was often fueled by people who had not even seen the film, making uninformed rage the loudest response.

The film’s screening at the Jerusalem Film Festival provoked government calls to remove it for “opening the wounds of Israeli society.” Despite this, Yes went on to receive seven Ophir Award nominations, Israel’s equivalent of the Academy Awards, including best picture and best director.

In August, Kino Lorber, a New York-based distributor known for bold choices, acquired the North American rights. They plan to release Yes in U.S. theaters on March 27. Lapid expresses relief and admiration for a distributor willing to face the film’s difficult subject matter head-on: "There’s something refreshing about a distributor which is not afraid. Cinema was born in this kind of courage."

According to Lapid, American audiences will find the film’s themes relevant to their own society. "This was shot in Israel and on the border with Gaza, but it’s really also a movie about the American state of mind," he says. "Each and every American can relate to the possibility—and the impossibility—of saying no to power. What happens when we lower our heads and mumble yes?"

Remarkably, the tension between authority and art played out during filming near the Gaza border. Minutes into shooting, the Israeli army intervened. However, rather than shutting the production down immediately, a young officer engaged with the crew, asking questions about filmmaking. He stalled his superiors, allowing them to continue working for several hours. When Lapid requested one last shot, the soldier initially refused, citing wartime restrictions. Lapid responded, "Maybe now war feels like the only thing that matters. One day, it might be film." After a pause, the officer granted them ten more minutes.

This episode captures the spirit of Yes—a film born amid conflict and resistance, grappling with the uneasy choices faced by individuals and societies under immense pressure. Nadav Lapid has delivered a work that challenges viewers to confront uncomfortable truths about power, submission, and the cost of saying "yes" in a fractured world.