THE STORY – A proud family man struggles to provide as financial pressures mount. Though his mother and brother-in-law offer help, accepting support wounds his dignity. As stability slips away, he faces tough choices about pride versus survival.
THE CAST – Astrit Kabashi, Flonja Kodheli, Kumrije Hoxha, Fiona Gllavica & Alban Ukaj
THE TEAM – Visar Morina (Director/Writer) & Doruntina Basha (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 130 Minutes
In Visar Morina’s “Shame and Money,” the transition from the rolling hills of rural Kosovo to the unforgiving concrete jungle of its capital is not merely a change in geography—it is a poignant erosion of the human spirit. Following his 2020 Sundance hit “Exile,” Morina returns with a nuanced story that dissects the precise moment where traditional pride collides with the cold reality of hypercapitalism. Morina and co-writer Doruntina Basha craft a portrait of a family caught in the gears of a society that demands everything and promises nothing in return.
The film begins in the quiet of a generational home, where Shaban (Astrit Kabashi) and his wife, Hatixhe (Flonja Kodheli), tend to their cows and land with simple, fulfilling diligence. But this pastoral peace is shattered not by an external force, but by familial greed. When Shaban’s brother, Liridon (Tristan Halilaj), steals the family’s livestock and disappears, the life they have always known evaporates. Forced into the city, Shaban, Hatixhe, their three young daughters, and Shaban’s elderly mother (Kumrije Hoxha) are crammed into a claustrophobic apartment, trading the scent of nature for the stifling anxiety of instability.
Morina approaches this shift with a terrifically foreboding atmosphere. One particularly evocative scene captures Shaban working an odd job moving furniture out of an apartment; the camera lingers on a garbage pile outside as pieces of furniture crash and splinter—a sharp allegory for Shaban’s own life falling apart. In the city, the beautiful hillside landscapes are replaced by high-rises and brand-name stores, and the family is forced to navigate the “American Dream” irony of Bill Clinton Boulevard, where the false promise is that if you work hard, you’ll get ahead. It is a place where wealth is chased but rarely caught, leaving most to perform laborious jobs for the big players who barely pay enough to keep a family afloat.
The heart of the film lies in the internal struggle of its lead. Shaban, the traditional head of the household, finds his dignity slipping away as he stands on street corners hoping to be chosen for odd jobs. While his wealthy brother-in-law, Alban (Alban Ukaj), worries that Shaban’s manual labor will bring “shame” to the family name, Hatixhe offers a sobering, humanistic correction: “Shame is a luxury.” Hatixhe’s resilience is the film’s anchor; even as they hunt for work to pay for Shaban’s mother’s medications or to afford rent, she and Shaban share a happy embrace on the street. It is a profound bond that capitalism attempts to pull apart but cannot quite break.
However, the film is not without its flaws. The pace is quite slow; however, in a way, it feels intentional, mirroring the grueling wait for employment. And while Kabashi and Kodheli provide deeply human performances, the narrative focuses so heavily on Shaban’s internal struggles that the perspectives of the children and the mother are left somewhat in the shadows. Even Hatixhe could have used more dialogue to express how she is dealing with such a big change in her life. There is also a dream sequence late in the film that makes this a companion to “No Other Choice,” but fumbles slightly in its execution and clarity.
Ultimately, “Shame and Money” is a compelling investigation into how we prevent losing ourselves in an unforgiving system. It asks a haunting question: how much can a person endure before they crack? Its depiction of the resilience of the family unit is undeniably heartening, and Morina delivers a searing cultural commentary on the cost of survival, reminding us that in a world of high-rises and hypercapitalism, the most expensive thing one can possess is one’s own humanity.
