At the center of Nadav Lapid’s hilarious, disjointed, and unpredictable dramedy lies the age-old theme of identity and what defines it. Is it where we come from, who we choose to associate with, the language we speak, our nationality?

Synonym explores such questions with novel sincerity and cringeworthy chaos. It follows a young Israeli man, Yoav (Tom Mercier), who leaves his home country for Paris in hopes of reinventing himself. He refuses to speak in his native Hebrew, sticks to his newly-learned French, and has all but disconnected from his family and nationality. He is obsessed with the idea of Paris, and tries to find work and fit into the high-class culture in hopes of burying his muddled past as an Israeli army officer.

It opens right away with Yoav navigating through the bustling streets of Paris and landing in an empty mansion for the night. After taking a rather uncomfortable, cold shower, he finds all of his belongings have been stolen. Slipping and sliding awkwardly (and nakedly) through the sterile, creaky building, Yoav is rescued by two artists living upstairs. An erratic if not strange friendship between the three ensues, followed by encounters and companionships with other expats, including a fellow Israeli veteran. At times, Yoav is very awkward—his eyes are constantly dotting elsewhere in mid-conversation.

The film is most compelling at its most bizarre and surreal. Some scenes certainly feel like they are all in Yoav’s head. They are, much like his personality, accentuations of the quirks that belie a host of insecurities and feelings of alienation. There are acts of masculine bravado, nude model shoots, and, in one of my favorite sequences, a hilarious parody of a citizenship prep class. The city of Paris is itself another character. It’s chaotic and beautiful, but there is also a sense of detachment, fakeness, and racism that lies behind its grandeur.

Even though Synonyms explored its themes in unexpected and at times entertaining ways, it often fell short of making me empathize for anyone else outside of Yoav. The same surrealist color that defines the film’s most substantive scenes also obscures some of the edges that render other characters human and relatable. Hence, the supporting roles felt like rough sketches. Perhaps that’s the point; maybe they are all figments of Yoav’s regret or yearning.

Regardless, this is not a straightforward story (then again, when has any film that’s won the Berlin International Film Festival’s Golden Bear award ever been?). Those who are into art-house flicks will find much to enjoy. Others might find this film confounding.