SUNDANCE 2026 World Cinema Dramatic Competition
Review: Shame and Money
by Olivia Popp
- In his second feature to compete at Sundance, Visar Morina takes a razor-sharp blade to pierce the veil of our ultra-transactional late-stage capitalist present

In the world of middle-aged Kosovar couple Shaban (Astrit Kabashi) and Hatixhe (Flonja Kodheli), late-stage capitalism is not the norm. In his newest feature, Shame and Money, Kosovar-born, German-based director Visar Morina homes in on the two of them, whom he says were based on how he imagined his parents would be in the present day. Co-written by Morina and Doruntina Basha (who co-wrote Waterdrop [+see also:
film review
interview: Robert Budina
film profile], Albania’s 2025 Oscars submission), Shame and Money is undoubtedly an early critical standout of the 2026 Sundance World Cinema Dramatic Competition, where the film has just world-premiered. This is Morina’s third feature and the second of his movies to partake in this Sundance competition, after Exile [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Visar Morina
film profile] did so in 2020.
The filmmaker brings us first to the countryside, where we meet Shaban’s large extended family, embroiled in drama over his errant brother Liridon’s (Tristan Halilaj) constant demands for money. As Hatixhe takes care of a barn full of their beloved cows, her husband Shaban makes a new fence: this is manual labour carried out with passion and strong self-respect. But when their cows vanish along with Liridon, the couple is forced to move to Pristina to find new work and to earn enough money to also take care of Shaban’s ailing elderly mother.
Thrust into the unfamiliar environment, the two are genuinely confused. Case in point: they don’t understand the concept of a deposit in addition to a monthly rental cost. While Hatixhe takes care of the father-in-law of her sister Lina (Fiona Gllavica), who lives in luxury via her wealthy husband Alban (Alban Ukaj), Shaban hunts for jobs and works sporadically at Alban’s bar.
The film’s title is simple but ultimately crucial to its incisive social critique. “Shame is a luxury,” Hatixhe informs Lina, reflecting the movie’s thunderous examination of dignity, staying true to one’s values and the price of survival. Then, after Lina gifts Hatixhe some clothes: “It’s like you're buying me.” Like Chaplin’s Modern Times brought to life and bringing to mind the chug-chug-chug of 21st-century capitalist machinery, Shaban and Hatixhe seem to work to no end, but Morina never falls into the trap of repetition. Instead, he fixates on how the conditions his protagonists are pushed into are not simply demonstrative of a different way of life – transactional at best, exploitative at worst – but, rather, an entirely different way of thinking in which we are all trained.
Morina uses an eclectic mix of sounds, merging an urgent, dissonant score by Mario Batkovic with traditional folk tunes and more popular Albanian music, reflecting the internal dualities of the movie. A long, late-film fantasy sequence further invites us to question what we will believe when it’s shown to us, which becomes frighteningly more relevant at this very moment than anyone would like to imagine. Shame and Money will resonate strongly with anyone who has personally had to fight to survive – or who has seen family and friends do so.
DoP Janis Mazuch’s largely handheld camerawork is beautifully simple, closely – but never invasively – following Shaban in particular as he’s constantly forced to rush around, waiting by the side of the road for odd jobs from entitled individuals. In one scene that may stun viewers not familiar with the Kosovar capital, Mazuch’s camera lingers first on the waiting workers and then on the statue of Bill Clinton located on the former US president’s eponymous Pristina boulevard, which remains frozen in a waving gesture, like the haunting spectre of a neoliberal world order.
Shame and Money is a production by Vicky Bane and Schuldenberg Films (Germany), co-produced by Eagle Eye Films Kosova (Kosovo), Vertigo Ljubljana (Slovenia), On Film Production (Albania), List Production (North Macedonia) and Quetzalcoatl (Belgium). It is sold worldwide by The Yellow Affair.
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