Hardly less than nothing

Downwards.Shaban (Astrit Kabashi) and Hatixhe (Flonja Kodheli) have lost their house and farm

Capitalism sends its regards. The Bill Clinton statue in front of an apartment block in Pristina

Only tolerated in the brother-in-law's house: Shaban and Hatixhe

Shaban (Astrit Kabashi) and Hatixhe (Flonja Kodheli) can take action. Most of the time they work side by side, carrying sacks of fattening feed into the barn or administering painkillers in a water bottle to a sick cow. The couple understand each other almost wordlessly. And despite the physically demanding work on her farm in a village in Kosovo, there is great calm in her actions and a caring look in her eyes.

But when Shaban's younger brother Liridon (Tristan Halilaj) visits his sister-in-law, she is alone at work. "Tixhe," he says to her, "I need money." These are the first words spoken in Visar Morina's drama, and they immediately entail a serious betrayal of the family, which will leave them at the mercy of market events.

Similar to the biblical story about the cattle owner Job, who loses his entire herd, the family loses their livelihood and their dignity.

The couple, who make a living from dairy farming with their three daughters, cannot raise the required sum – 2,000 euros. The third brother Agim (Abdinaser Beka), who works as a teacher at a school, cannot and does not want to contribute the funds.

The mother (Kumrije Hoxha), who is never named but watches over her sons and their families like an inviolable authority, initially considers giving the money to her youngest son. Maybe he's in trouble, maybe he'll use the money to go to Germany and become a nurse there. Nevertheless, she decides against it; after all, money is tight anyway.

Then the cows disappear overnight, the stable is deserted, and there is no trace of Liridon. Similar to the biblical story about the cattle owner Job, who loses his entire herd, the family loses their livelihood and their dignity.

As the title “Of Shame and Money” suggests, the film is as much about archaic feelings as it is about plain cash. After their brother's betrayal, Shaban, Hatixhe, their daughters and their grandmother are forced to move to the capital Pristina. Adelina (Fiona Gllavica), Hatixhe's sister, whose husband has made money, lives there. The nouveau riche businessman Alban (Alban Ukaj) provides his destitute relatives with an apartment and lets Shaban and Hatixhe clean in his nightclub. But the apartment is clearly too small for the six people and the cleaning job doesn't bring in enough money. Every time a small opportunity arises for the family, a new problem arises somewhere else. Most of the time it is financial.

If you want to make it easy for yourself, you can classify Morina's film as part of a current of offensive criticism of capitalism, which was briefly popular in the cinema with "Parasite", "The Menu" (2022) or "Saltburn" (2023) and quickly seems to have gone out of fashion. However, the director, who was born in Pristina and lives in Berlin, does not turn the Kosovar couple into ticking time bombs that, after one too many humiliations, drag everyone around them into the abyss. The “Eat the Rich” motif is missing from him. Instead of rebelling, Shaban, who almost only makes whispering noises, accepts his fate. The film shows the campaign of neoliberalism, which divides society into the haves and have-nots, using an extended family as an example. Shaban and Hatixhe are constantly forced to ask: for work, for an advance on their daughter's new shoes or their grandmother's medication.

Only tolerated in the brother-in-law's house: Shaban and Hatixhe

Conversely, they are hardly allowed to refuse a request themselves if they do not want to lose the favor of those who can ask them for something at all. Hatixhe repeatedly rushes to her sister's house in the light-flooded modern house to help care for her paralyzed father-in-law. Free of charge, even if Adelina, who hardly has any money of her own, repeatedly supports her sister.

What is called “working class” in the film is the harshest manifestation of a precarious working reality, which statistics refer to as “informal employment” and which has accompanied Kosovo since the end of the war.

The setbacks that befall Shaban in quick succession, these trials of an indifferent market, root Morina deeply in Kosovo's recent history. Because there is no money for the rental deposit, Shaban's mother gives the landlord her golden lira, a traditional gold coin in the Balkans that has been passed down through generations and serves as a last reserve. From now on, Shaban and Hatixhe struggle to earn additional money in order to get back what was not converted into money even during the war and is now entering the economic cycle.

With nothing but his labor, Shaban stands next to other men on the side of the road, waiting for someone to use him, for a few euros, with no contract, no security, no certainty of wages the next day. What is called “working class” in the film is the harshest manifestation of a precarious working reality, which statistics refer to as “informal employment” and which has accompanied Kosovo since the end of the war.

Janis Mazuch's camera, which soberly scans the real world, later brings the larger-than-life statue of Bill Clinton into the picture. With her hand raised in greeting, she has something theme park-like about her. The association with Disneyland is obvious, but the portrait of the US President is actually intended to remind us of the NATO intervention in 1999 and the end of Serbian tyranny. It looms in front of a socialist apartment block, with the American flag stretched over its long-decaying façade. It is the only open tip in a film that is otherwise alien to the malicious: in front of the crumbling remnants of socialism, the American liberator watches over the disillusioned of capitalism.

Capitalism sends its regards. The Bill Clinton statue in front of an apartment block in Pristina

Even if accordion sounds and a cappella songs that swell into a powerful canon provide a cultural basis for the story, “Of Shame and Money” still tells of something universal. To dismiss Shaban's situation as a mere post-socialist phenomenon would be western hubris, considering growing social inequality, a housing market that is swallowing up ever larger portions of income, and conditions in which even permanent employment no longer reliably protects against downward mobility.

In front of the crumbling remnants of socialism, the American liberator watches over those disillusioned with capitalism.

The fact that Shaban doesn't break out despite all this, visibly suffers from the situation, but still stoically continues on his path, makes him an everyman, an interchangeable hero, in the best sense of the word. Astrit Kabashi plays his character with almost painful control. Sheer disbelief, sudden insult, and then deep despair cross his face, but they are never allowed to completely break through. Shaban only allows himself to escape in his imagination. The film's point ultimately remains just an idea. “Shame and Money” thus has a resolution that can be considered more universally valid than the eruptive violence of “Parasite” and Bong Joon-ho's epigones.

What almost drives Shaban crazy, however, is something else: from those around him, from clients and random acquaintances, he is constantly assured that he is a good person. Like Job, he doesn't know how he deserved all of this. Where God doesn't have the answer, people want to shout to him: It's the economy, Shaban!

Of Shame and Money (Germany/Kosovo/Slovenia/Albania/North Macedonia/Belgium 2026). Book: Visar Morina and Doruntina Basha. Director: Visar Morina. Actors: Astrit Kabashi, Flonja Kodheli, Kumrije Hoxha. Film release: September 24th