Discussing Synonyms, the astounding psychological drama made by Nadav Lapid, and looking at its fundamental qualities is an incredibly difficult task, especially because this is a film that works as both an intricate exploration of the human condition, as well as a meaningful manifesto on the various challenges an individual tends to encounter when finding themselves attempting to navigate a world they simply cannot quite understand or find a place in. In this case, we meet Yoav, a young man fleeing from his place of origin, finding his way into the streets of Paris, which he believes will give him the strengths and insights to living his life without restrictions. An Israeli film that was made almost entirely in French, and taking place in the nation’s capital, Synonyms is a thoroughly disruptive film, a heartwrenching thriller and an achingly beautiful drama about one man’s search for meaning after escaping from his homeland, going out into the world in the hopes of not only finding refuge from harsh conditions afflicted on people like him, but ultimately a sense of belonging, an identity that extends beyond mere borders, and in which he can finally exist freely, without the constraints of a system that is built to drive people like Yoav to their very limits. Focused on the alienation of realizing one’s individuality, which is brought on by deep existential quandaries and insatiable rage towards the state of the world, Synonyms is a drama that always appears to be on the precipice of eruption, but calmly tells a beautifully poetic story of survival and the sometimes perilous intersections between identity and societal expectations.

At the outset, what appears to be so prominent about Synonyms is its approach to language and its role in society, as evident in the title, which refers to the main character’s constant insistence on learning the language, particularly the synonyms – from his perspective, someone can only be seen as native when they can plausibly describe the same thought in many different ways. This evokes fascinating discourse into the indelible nature of language, and how it is inextricably tied to an individual and their place in the world. Yoav refuses to speak Hebrew – not only does it force him to adopt a language he is not quite proficient in, but also avoids him having to be seen as an immigrant, a belief that he very soon finds dismissed. His intention is to become French with immediate effect, so giving up every aspect of his previous life, whether it be his family, the stories of his past (which he is partially coerced into giving away, to someone who helped in in his cultural transition), and his language – but regardless of how much he tries, his accent tends to linger.

Yoav will always be an outsider – even when the desperation to survive sees him resorting to working for someone who apparently would only focus on his body, he finds himself an outsider, where his language is used not only as a demonstration of his exotic origins, but as a tool of oppressive torture, a painful reminder of a life he left behind, and the innumerable memories that he is seeking to escape. Lapid understands that language and culture, while undeniably linked, are not inseparable, and as one of the characters boldly states, “giving up your language kills a part of yourself”. Yet, Yoav is unmoved – language is often seen as the first, and perhaps most challenging, boundary one must overcome to fully immerse themselves in a culture. Without it, one will always be an outsider, but there is a belief that the abandonment of one’s native tongue will, at the very least, allow him to masquerade for long enough, being a fleeting presence in constant flux, just long enough for it to become a reality. The trouble comes when he is supposed to sustain this act, especially with the growing unease that is pervading the society, and where he is constantly at risk of being

Synonyms belongs to a new movement of European cinema in which outsiders provide an inward look into the machinations of a particular culture, from the perspective of protagonists who are caught between them. The result of a world that is become more attentive towards the concept of global citizenship, and the rising discourse surrounding migration and those seeking sanctuary far from homelands torn apart by social and political unease. In constructing a film that appears to take a relatively simple approach in terms of the premise develops into a complex drama about social issues, executed with unimpeachable precision by a director whose intentions are borne from both a fascination with the rapid change of the world, and his own personal quandaries. Language is at the core of Synonyms, which gives us an entry-point into the core of what the film is saying, where the interplay between something as ordinary as learning a language invokes questions of the relationship between nationality and identity, both in how we perceive the world, and how we ourselves are perceived. Yoav would like to see himself as a global citizen – someone who is not weighed down by his background, but rather being the product of his own decisions and merits. Unfortunately, as Lapid shows, the broad tendency for society to be vastly myopic when it comes to viewing culture as something other than a bundle of quirks and eccentricities outside the surroundings one has become indelibly acclimated to, will always tend to weaken the possibility of true assimilation for someone like Yoav.

The film presents us with a character who is undergoing a metaphysical crisis, with the director (who wrote this film as a response to some of his own experiences) carefully curating this story about a young man who has never quite fit in anywhere, demonstrating how he sees himself and perceives the world around him. This comes about in various ways – in his own moments of quiet introspection, where he is doing everything he can to ensure that he can survive (without resorting to any of the conventional actions that someone seeking refuge would when assimilating into a new culture), or through relaying stories of his own experiences, and how his past, while difficult to hold onto, was vital in forming him into the individual he is so desperately trying escape. Yoav is searching for a sense of belonging, and with each passing moment, he realizes how difficult this is to achieve, especially when absconding from the past, which follows him around and manifests in the most unexpected ways, such as encountering a fellow Israeli or being urged to speak his own language, which he avoids as far as he possibly can. The feeling of isolation is omnipotent in Synonyms, with some of the director’s bold stylistic choices complementing the story in moments where the culture of the city clashes with the sensibilities of the protagonist – just imagine one of the centrepiece scenes, in which Yoav sneaks into what appears to be a fancy restaurant, in an attempt to get some food, but soon becomes ensconced in a crowd of enthusiastic dancers, lost in the shuffle but eventually rising above them – even when completely immersed in the culture, he stands out.

The film is centred entirely around Tom Mercier, whose incredible performance at Yoav is bound to become indelible when discussing how a single performance can harbour so much meaning and depth, and run the gamut of all possible emotional states. Whether in the quiet, introspective moments or the harrowing outbursts that come as a result of the character’s desperation, Mercier is astounding. The character is constructed to be a portrayal of modern masculinity, with one of the film’s core themes being the contrast between the rugged hypermasculinity imbued into young men in Yoav’s native country, and the more fluid representations of gender roles and expectations in more traditionally-progressive societies, such as in his adopted home of France, where individuality (particularly amongst the youth) is highly valued. This is most stark in the performances of Mercier and Quentin Dolmaire, who plays Emile, the young writer who saves Yoav’s life, and becomes a close friend, assisting him in his transition between cultures, and in the process gaining a new perspective on the cultural differences, which he initially uses to strengthen their bond, but which ultimately results in a division when it becomes clear that their friendship is not as selfless as it would appear, particularly on the part of Yoav, who unintentionally overlooks the generosity of his new friends.

Yoav and Emile extremely different characters, which are in turn contrasted with other individuals that are woven throughout the film, with the protagonist encountering a series of compatriots, who remind him of his roots and represent the trauma that compelled him to leave in the first place. This is certainly not an easy role, and Mercier’s incredible ability to evoke both the cynicism and sensitivity of a young man is mesmerizing, playing a character who is searching for something that ultimately realizes is unattainable, especially through the discovery that, regardless of his efforts, he is bound to be confined to one particular group. The desperation found in this character, and his unwavering dedication to evading his memories, is truly compelling, and extraordinarily heartbreaking, which is not only testament to a great performance on the part of Mercier, but the compassionate honesty of a director, whose personal attachment to this story is evident in every moment. Mercier takes hold of their character and endures many of the challenges the director asserts on him, committing himself entirely to a role that we’re supposed to identify with, and have empathy for, without forcing us into a situation of unnecessary sentimentality. Mercier and Lapid develop this character into a fully-formed representation of a new cohort of young people, who set off into the perils of the unknown world, in the hopes of becoming a part of it in ways previous groups were never afforded.  The image of Mercier trodding through the streets of Paris, reciting endless lists of synonyms (many of which find their way into the dialogue later in the film), and wearing the yellow overcoat that is present throughout is bound to become symbolic of a new generation of counterculture rage.

This is precisely what makes Synonyms such a special film – the extent to which Lapid goes to infuse detail in every frame, which goes beyond the confines of the story and into the more peripheral elements. where some of the most subversive and effective commentary resides. Even something as seemingly innocuous as the colour of the coat Yoav wears harbours deeper meaning – as a film focused on culture, the constant presence of yellow speaks to different perceptions. In both cultures at the centre of the film, the bright, positive associations of the hue are replaced with more negative connotations, particularly in the historical context. In France, it evokes deception and wrongdoing, especially through the former association of criminals and traitors having their doors painted yellow – this extends to Yoav being perceived as abandoning his culture and thus betraying the honour of his roots. The associations in Israeli culture are not any more positive, with the use of the colour evoking the yellow badges that Jews were forced to wear under Nazi rule, as if Lapid is commenting on the inability for Yoav to escape the more indelible elements of his identity. Perhaps looking too deep into a small aspect of this magnificent film, it speaks directly to the director’s intricate approach to the symbolism in this film, whether in the most inconsequential detail, or some broad social message that is conveyed through allusion or implication, which all converge into a complex tapestry of an individual caught between cultures, and struggling to come to terms with his own identity.

Synonyms is an enormously metaphysical film, particularly in its approach to the main character’s fragile mental state as he goes about his journey of self-discovery, and how he reacts to the various obstacles he encounters along the way. Not necessarily an indictment on his sanity (as considering his actions the result of some underlying condition seems out of place, even if it would offer more enrichment to an already layered film), but rather an exploration of his shifting emotional state brought on by his changing perceptions and experiences. Unlike the majority of films that see outsiders venturing into uncharted territory, Yoav’s existential crisis doesn’t merely manifest in inescapable anxiety towards a city that he cannot handle, nor the despair to the world around him and the cultural differences he encounters, but rather comes about as a slow descent into socially-mediated madness, which gradually occurs throughout the film, and ends in one of the most haunting final shots of the past few years when every bit of anger, resentment and fear cause him to fall apart. The protagonist’s growing angst is a result of his inability to earn the sense of belonging he craves, regardless of how much he tries to immerse himself into a culture he feels would help him overcome the traumatic memories of his past. Every fragment of false hope and immense disappointment intertwine with the animosity earned from a youth filled with hopelessness and converge into a bleak portrayal of intense fury towards the ambiguities of identity and the cultural normativity that seeks to divide rather than unite.

Ultimately, this is not a subtle film. There’s an anger pulsating throughout this film that immediately sets it apart from work that treads similar narrative territory, which is the result of a director who commands this story, being inspired by his own experiences and using the lessons he learned in his youth as a way of conveying the anguish many people are confronted with, particularly when trying to make as radical a change as assimilating into a new cultural system. Lapid constructs a film that is primarily about the events that occur when youths start to rebel against the societal structures, demonstrating their disillusionment with a world that proposes itself as being inclusive to all, but only from afar. Their identities, which are reinforced as being indelible based on the preconceived notions of what an individual should be and the norms they should adhere to as a result of situations beyond their control, are called into identity, with the only natural response being outright rebellion. This fury is channelled into the singular individual of Yoav, whose constant travail towards achieving something that is always just out of reach begins to erode all hope, which is indicative of a growing sense of unease in the current generation.

Synonyms is a film always on the verge of complete chaos, with Lapid creating an unpredictable story about a volatile man and his search for meaning, which keeps the audience actively engaged in the intricacies of his plight, which is not exclusive to him. Yoav is a single man, but he represents an entire movement, a multitude of people from all cultures hoping to seek refuge in societies that they perceive as being more accepting or facilitative of who they are. It becomes a daring social odyssey that provokes deep existential questions, all the while making it very clear to us the deceptive nature of what has been proposed as being an endlessly accepting world, with Lapid not wavering in his intention to unveil the truth, and in the process challenge what has always been considered to be sacred. Synonyms is a film that tends to linger, with the heartbreakingly beautiful, but ultimately tragic, message likely to haunt any viewer who undergoes the experience of surrendering themselves to this astounding pilgrimage into the depths of humanity.