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This fringe actor finds the spotlight in Israel's most provocative film post-Oct. 7

Actor and activist Ariel Bronz, long relegated to the esoteric corners of Israel's art scene, has been catapulted to the spotlight after his performance in the film "Yes." It landed him a best actor nomination at Israel's academy award ceremony last year. He didn't win.
Ofir Berman for NPR
Actor and activist Ariel Bronz, long relegated to the esoteric corners of Israel's art scene, has been catapulted to the spotlight after his performance in the film "Yes." It landed him a best actor nomination at Israel's academy award ceremony last year. He didn't win.

TEL AVIV, Israel — The edgiest Israeli film that has come out during these last few years of war is "Yes," which opened last week in select theaters in the U.S.

The film begins with a pair of go-go dancers entertaining Israel's army chief at a wild party during the Gaza war.

In the starring role is one of the most provocative figures of Israel's theater scene, 41-year-old actor Ariel Bronz.

His character in the film is an avant-garde musician married to a dancer who, after the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas-led attack, decide to conform to the Israeli mainstream. They take on gigs performing for Israel's elite.

"They start to be entertainers slash clowns ... in order to survive in this place," Bronz told NPR.

Israeli critics call it a "monumental," "provocative" film

Ariel Bronz character in the film "Yes" is an avant-garde musician married to a dancer who, after the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas-led attack, decide to conform to the Israeli mainstream. They take on gigs performing for Israel's elite.The Israeli director of "Yes," Nadav Lapid, says it was hard to find Israeli actors willing to take part in the film. It's received rave reviews in Israel, with critics calling it "monumental" and "provocative."
Courtesy of Transpex /
Ariel Bronz character in the film "Yes" is an avant-garde musician married to a dancer who, after the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas-led attack, decide to conform to the Israeli mainstream. They take on gigs performing for Israel's elite.
The Israeli director of "Yes," Nadav Lapid, says it was hard to find Israeli actors willing to take part in the film. It's received rave reviews in Israel, with critics calling it "monumental" and "provocative."

The film, which premiered last year at the Cannes Film Festival, takes a hard look at the trauma and drive for vengeance that swept over Israel after Oct. 7, when many Israeli artists rallied around the flag or performed for troops as Israel went to war in Gaza.

In the film, Bronz's character is commissioned to compose a new national anthem for post-Oct. 7 Israel, and writes a warmongering ballad about destroying Gaza and "love sanctified in blood."

The Israeli director of "Yes," Nadav Lapid, says it was hard to find Israeli actors willing to take part in the film. It's received rave reviews in Israel, with critics calling it "monumental" and "provocative."

As Israel fights off accusations it committed genocide in Gaza, Bronz in the film and in his art pushes the boundaries of acceptable speech for artists in the country today.

"There are very few artists left in Israel who dare to speak," he said. "If you are against occupation, against genocide, so you become isolated. You become not part of this place. You become (an) enemy of state."

Interrogated by police for his art

Actor and activist Ariel Bronz photographed in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, Israel. "There are very few artists left in Israel who dare to speak," he said. "If you are against occupation, against genocide, so you become isolated. You become not part of this place. You become (an) enemy of state."
Ofir Berman for NPR /
Actor and activist Ariel Bronz photographed in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, Israel. "There are very few artists left in Israel who dare to speak," he said. "If you are against occupation, against genocide, so you become isolated. You become not part of this place. You become (an) enemy of state."

Bronz immigrated to Israel from Odessa, Ukraine, when he was six. Today he teaches Shakespeare at an Israeli acting school, and is also a playwright, poet, director and performance artist.

He's best known for a performance ten years ago that shocked even the progressive audience he performed for — a conference of the liberal Israeli newspaper Haaretz.

It was a political satire. He was playing the role of an Israeli nationalist supremacist. The Israeli audience didn't understand the satire, and booed him off the stage. The venue cut the sound system and shut off the lights.

In his final act of defiance before leaving the stage, he stuck an Israeli flag in his behind. He was interrogated by police because of it.

Since then, he has paid a price as an artist. He says audience members cancelled tickets to his show at a recent theatre festival when they discovered he was involved.

"I became very much isolated from the Israeli art scene, because nobody wanted to be known as (a) person that gave a stage to this monster," Bronz said.

Israeli artists face opposing pressures in the wake of the Gaza war

Ariel Bronz during the performance "Who Wants a Ride on a Camel at Jaffa Cinema?" at Jaffa Cinema, Tel Aviv–Jaffa, Israel.
Ofir Berman for NPR /
Ariel Bronz during the performance "Who Wants a Ride on a Camel at Jaffa Cinema?" at Jaffa Cinema, Tel Aviv–Jaffa, Israel.

Abroad, thousands of filmmakers and actors are waging a pro-Palestinian boycott against most of Israel's film industry, accusing it of "complicity or whitewashing genocide and apartheid."

Israel denied accusations that it committed genocide in Gaza and its culture minister has disparaged Israeli filmmakers who show their country in a critical light, and even threatened to cut funding to Israel's film industry.

Bronz, long relegated to the esoteric corners of Israel's art scene, has been catapulted to the spotlight after his performance in the film "Yes." It landed him a best actor nomination at Israel's academy award ceremony last year. He didn't win. (A young Palestinian actor won for another film.)

That very night, after the award ceremony, police came to Bronz's apartment and took him in for questioning — over a poem he published on Facebook. Bronz says the poem was protesting state violence. Police said the last line of the poem called to murder the prime minister.

The interrogation rattled him. He doesn't know if he'll face charges.

"My, like, levels of paranoia got really higher," Bronz said. "But on the other hand, I'm much more motivated."

A dedicated niche audience

Since shooting the film "Yes,"  Ariel Bronz has found a warmer welcome in Israel's mainstream art scene. He's been nominated for best actor in "Souls," a new play that recently opened one of Tel Aviv's main theaters.
Ofir Berman for NPR /
Since shooting the film "Yes," Ariel Bronz has found a warmer welcome in Israel's mainstream art scene. He's been nominated for best actor in "Souls," a new play that recently opened one of Tel Aviv's main theaters.

Bronz recited the poem earlier this year at a performance of his one-man show "Who Wants a Ride on a Camel?" in Tel Aviv, wearing green leggings decorated with an image of a rifle.

He recited another poem: "I love my weapon. I love to clean it, to oil it, to stick a ramrod through it," the poem goes — another grotesque satire.

Many Israeli artists who oppose their government, like the director of the film "Yes," have moved abroad, where they find more support. Ariel Bronz, with two aging parents in Israel, is staying put — and also finds himself at home in the pain of Israeli life.

"All this blood I spilled here in my art, it became like the footsteps that I can identify myself in them," he said.

Since shooting the film "Yes," he's found a warmer welcome in Israel's mainstream art scene. He's been nominated for best actor in "Souls," a new play that recently opened one of Tel Aviv's main theaters.

His most dedicated audience, though, is a niche crowd.

"He's just not afraid," said Jenya Maley, an Israeli filmmaker in the audience of his one-man show. "Most of the artists are basically in denial of the genocide in Gaza, in denial of the reality of what we did...He puts a mirror in front of the Israeli society."

"It's like making art as a way to resist," said Shira Arad, an Israeli film editor, who attended the show. "We are so extremely lucky to still have artists like him here, because he's our voice."

Itay Stern in Tel Aviv contributed reporting to this story

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Daniel Estrin
Daniel Estrin is NPR's international correspondent in Jerusalem.