Going against your own morals in order to secure a better future is already challenging, to say the least, but when things don’t go as planned and defying your own values comes with unforeseen consequences, the domino effect is never-ending and can end up destroying those close to us. This is the subject at the heart of Okarina, Albanian director Alban Zogjani’s first feature film, which was presented in competition at the 42nd Bergamo Film Meeting following its initial screening in November at the International Film Festival of India. It’s a drama revolving around a Kosovan couple who are denied the right to start over after living through the devastations of war and who gradually come to make a very delicate and risky decision.

There’s a before and after “the letter” for Shaqa and Selvia (Jehon Gorani and Shengyl Ismajli), a middle-aged husband and wife who left Kosovo to join their daughters in the UK, where they now live in a small terraced house in a peaceful, provincial town and lead a dignified life, the former crafting musical instruments out of wood (including the titular ocarina) and the latter working as a home help for attractive widower Giovanni (Kastriot Shehi). The letter in question comes from the Immigration Office, communicating the news that their residence permit will not be renewed: “Your country is now safe, you can return home”. It’s the early noughties, the couple’s two daughters, Saranda and Vjosa (Rina Krasniqi and Flaka Latifi), have all their papers in order, but their mother and father are asked to leave the country, with the prospect of having to start over again in a version of Kosovo devoid of opportunities.

“We have to stay close to our daughters, they’ll never go back”, Selvia insists, while her brooding husband seems resigned to his fate. But there might be a solution, and it’s Giovanni who suggests one to Selvia: a marriage of convenience to help obtain a residence permit. Shaqa will have to do the same, embarking on a sham marriage with their neighbour (Arta Selimi), whose only life partner is her dog. And so it is that, after a significant number of discussions and much confusion, the decision is made and a strange and unlikely ménage à quatre takes root, where one party’s loneliness intersects with the other’s need for papers. The two new couples are ultimately obliged to live under the same roof, since the authorities could come knocking at any moment for an inspection. But then, once they obtain their residence permits, they’ll divorce and that’ll be that. The reality is, however, things can often take an unexpected turn.

While Shaqa and Selvia question their entire lives, a parallel story follows the tribulations of the youngest and most rebellious daughter, Vjosa, who is single but secretly pregnant: a situation which only the more sensible sister, Saranda, is aware of. This is, arguably, the least interesting part of the film, hampering a deeper exploration of the main characters, whose actions and motivations remain somewhat ambiguous. The film’s dialogue is stripped back and doesn’t give much away, and it sometimes feels like we’re dealing with faits accomplis without totally understanding how we got there (such as Selvia’s emotional journey, for example). The movie’s subject-matter might be fascinating, but it’s explored in such a cold, minimalist fashion that it risks leaving viewers disengaged.

Okarina is produced by Asha in Albania and co-produced by Agus Films in Germany.