Nobody was anticipating Nadav Lapid to carry again in his first characteristic for the reason that occasions of October 7, 2023: The Israeli filmmaker has lengthy been cinema’s most vigorously expressive and outspoken critic of presidency coverage in his start nation, with movies like 2019’s “Synonyms” and 2021’s “Ahed’s Knee” bristling with fury and disgrace over Israel’s nationwide navy tradition and inventive censorship. Even with these expectations firmly in place, nonetheless, Lapid’s new movie “Sure” startles with the sheer, spitting depth of its rage in opposition to the state, projected onto its amoral blank-slate protagonist: a self-abasing musician commissioned to compose a rousing new nationwide anthem, explicitly celebrating the demolition of Palestine. A whirling, maximalist satire directly despairing and exuberant, refined as a cannonball in its evisceration of the ruling courses and those that obey them, it’s each absurdist comedy and serious-as-cancer polemic: as grave as any movie with an prolonged dance break to 2000s novelty hit “The Ketchup Tune” can presumably be.

Following “Ahed’s Knee,” which performed in competitors at Cannes and received the jury prize, the position of this big, heaving work exterior the pageant’s official choice — it premiered as a substitute on the tail-end of the Administrators’ Fortnight sidebar — has raised eyebrows. It’s exhausting to not suspect some degree of programming timidity round a movie this fragrantly provocative and topically scorching, which can seemingly proceed exterior the pageant sphere. Many arthouse distributors will say no to “Sure,” a movie certain to stay divisive even amongst audiences who share its politics, given its brash, antic eccentricity of tone and elegance. However this is not cinema made with the intent of being embraced or awarded by any faction: It’s exhilaratingly of the second and within the second, a filmmaker’s quick, unfiltered response to atrocities too pressing to be addressed with tact or good style.

Performed in ping-ponging modes of morose containment and deranged vitality by an excellent Ariel Bronz, our hardly-hero is Y (the identical cryptic title, although not the identical character, because the protagonist in “Ahed’s Knee”), a pianist and performer launched in the course of a frantically choreographed Eurodance manufacturing quantity that sees him variously fellating a baguette, dunking his head right into a punch bowl, bobbing for cherry tomatoes in a swimming pool, and extravagantly making out with dance accomplice Yasmine (Efrat Dor). Seems she’s additionally his spouse, and collectively they make a residing performing this type of unhinged ground present at personal events for baying Tel Aviv elites.

Whether or not an ensuing dance battle with a horde of Israeli navy leaders is formally a part of the routine or not, it appears to usually occur anyway, with Yasmine quietly begging her husband to allow them to win — earlier than they complement the evening’s earnings with some three-way intercourse work for a frisky aged consumer in a cavernous mansion with the taxidermied heads of her family members mounted on the partitions. Welcome to “The Good Life,” because the movie’s first chapter is ruefully titled — good for whom, you may ask, although you hardly must.

By day, Y and Yasmine stay in a modest metropolis condo with their child son, additional working as a musician and hip-hop dance teacher respectively. These are exhausting instances for artists, and you are taking what gigs you may to get by: The title “Sure” is seemingly a reference to the phrase that Y, particularly, merely can not not say, at no matter value to his integrity and sanity. A very hefty supply that he can’t — however actually, actually ought to — refuse rolls in from a Russian oligarch (Aleksei Serebryakov, most not too long ago seen to equally shuddery impact in “Anora”) in mattress with the Israeli authorities, who commissions Y to compose the music to a form of hymn to the post-October 7 period. No normal compilation of patriotic platitudes, the lyrics Y is given to work with quantity to barbaric bragging over the sheer scale of carnage the Israeli military has wrought on Gaza within the final 18 months: “In a single 12 months there can be nothing left residing there/And we’ll return safely to our properties/We’ll annihilate all of them/And return to plow our fields.”

Lapid trades in indelicate satire for indelicate instances — Y at one level actually and lavishly licks his rich benefactor’s gleaming knee-high boots — so these grisly verses at first appear a usually blunt caricature of Israeli nationalism at its most ruthless. However the nice, gasp-inducing twist is that these lyrics usually are not a product of the director’s creativeness, however taken from a real-world composition by the anti-Palestinian activist group Civic Entrance. Additionally actual is a climactic music video during which the tune is trilled by a choir of cherubic, white-robed kids, their faces altered by AI — it may not be state-produced propaganda, but it surely is indicative of a vicious political local weather exhausting to parody in its extra and extremity.

After the drunken, dizzying insanity of the primary act, the second — titled “The Path” — arrives as a harsher hangover, as Y, after bleaching his hair and donning unseasonal velvet and snakeskin boots, takes a solo trek into the desert to work on the tune. For morbid inspiration, he approaches the Palestinian border, signaled by a grimly hovering quilt of black smoke, and is joined by ex-girlfriend Lea (Naama Preis), an IDF worker who regales him with an exhaustive, vituperative litany of Hamas’ crimes in opposition to Israel — her personal means of rationalizing the panorama of destruction laid out earlier than them. Y, doing his greatest to take care of apolitical blinkers on each side, isn’t satisfied; in the meantime, he has the more and more repulsed Yasmine and the chiding anti-Zionist voice of his late mom prompting him to marvel if he’s stated one sure too many.

A 3rd act, “The Evening,” sees these conflicting impulses and obligations lastly come to a head: Y himself might not determine on a transparent plan of action, however “Sure” makes overtly clear its personal conviction that silent neutrality is not conscionable or sustainable whereas the final of Gaza burns. Some might discover Lapid’s movie a hectoring and repetitive assertion, but it surely units out to be one: Constructed with typical dynamism from the director however hardly as lyrical as “Synonyms” or as intellectually knotty as “Ahed’s Knee,” this is rhetorical cinema that brooks no risk of being misheard or misinterpreted. Quite, Lapid encourages all on his aspect to be at the least as loud and strident in protest, to have any likelihood of being heard over the continuing din of warfare.