Ultimately, it is also a heart-wrenching study of how a serious crime scars the soul of the perpetrator as well as the victim, and how healing, such as it is, can take place through selfless service to another person. Though the setting may seem overly familiar at first, that impression is quickly swept aside as personalities take over in the riveting lead performances by Kingsley Ben-Adir and Rob Morgan. Both actors are superbly measured and self-aware, fiercely casting out any hint of sentimentality in the story.

A night scene introduces Frank Baker (Ben-Adir) as he is marched shackled into a new prison with a dozen other men in orange jumpsuits. The dominant colors will soon shift to the blue of standard-issue prison wear and yellow in the distinctive jackets of the “Gold Coats”. These are veteran inmates who (based on a real program in a California prison in San Luis Obispo) have been trained as caregivers for fellow prisoners with cognitive issues like Alzheimer’s and dementia. This hierarchical color symbolism draws the first, seemingly definitive line between Frank, young and athletic but with grizzled hair attesting to 17 years already served behind bars, and the fragile and failing 60-year-old Louis Nelson (Morgan) who is put in his care.

Louis has been a tough, violent customer all his life, feared by the other inmates. Now he is fragile and failing, with bouts of lucidity alternating with total puzzlement over where he is and what brought him there. There is something of the mortally wounded animal in his hostility and rage towards Frank that gives Louis a human side despite the fact he (like Frank) is serving time for murder.

As his memory fades, the paradox becomes increasingly clear: he no longer has the capacity to understand why he is being punished. The viewer shares Frank’s perplexity: first, and most banally, how to dress and feed a man who refuses his help. The group of inmate-caregivers, coached by an enlightened psychiatrist, rally around Frank when he is so discouraged he is ready to quit. They have all learned to roll with the fearful rages, outbursts and insults from the men they care for, and have grown protective and attached to them as their minds deteriorate and they move ever closer to hospice care. All this is touchingly suggested in Volpe and Esther Bernstorff’s screenplay without becoming maudlin. As a kind-hearted Hispanic Gold Coat (René Pérez Joglar in a warm supporting role) reminds Frank, one day their minds will be empty of everything, “even hate”.

Frank’s own struggle is multifaceted. He is approaching an important hearing with the parole board which fills him with hope and trepidation and, after many years, he has reestablished contact with his sister. But we sense that he is not being completely honest when he claims to have conquered his anger issues and gotten his violent impulses in check. In contrast, Louis seems to mellow as his dementia progresses, but he receives no help from his daughter who refuses all contact with him.

The slow pacing, especially in the first half of the film, requires some patience on the part of the viewer, but there are rich rewards later as scenes flow organically to their inevitable conclusion. Compared to the frenzied rhythm of Late Shift, Frank & Louis is a model of stylistic moderation, where all the narrative and technical elements work together in a persuasive whole. Oliver Coates’ sophisticated score quietly but insistently penetrates almost every scene, depicted by cinematographer Judith Kaufmann with simultaneous lights and shadows that are the visual equivalent of the moral dilemma under the surface of the story. How can we reconcile punishment – even just punishment – with a criminal who doesn’t remember his crime? It is Kafka seen from another angle.

Director: Petra Volpe
Screenwriters: Petra Volpe, Esther Bernstorff
Producers: Reto Schaerli, Lukas Hobi
Cast: Kingsley Ben-Adir, Rob Morgan, René Pérez Joglar, Rosalind Eleazar, Indira Varma
Cinematography: Judith Kaufman
Production design: Su Erdt, Iain Andrews
Costume design: Pascale Suter
Editing: Hansjorg Weissbrich
Music: Oliver Coates
Sound design: Gina Keller
Production companies: Zodiac Pictures
World sales: TrustNordisk
Venue: Sundance Film Festival
In English
94 minutes

From the jump, director Andreas Dalsgaard peels away the rarified air of the art world and gets right to the point: this is a story about money, connections, and power. It all begins in 2015 when secretive Russian oligarch Dmitry Rybovlev comes out of the shadows and takes his highly regarded and influential art dealer, Yves Bouvier, to court for fraud. This is an earth shaking move by Rybolovlev, a man who doesn’t have email, a cell phone number, or even a computer; a man for whom privacy has always been paramount. The court proceedings make Bouvier and Rybolovlev’s communications and transactions a matter of public record. And it provides a fascinating look into the realm of the super-wealthy, where absolutely nothing is ever as it appears.

Journalists and experts help unpack the tangled web of the case, but it goes something like this. It all starts with Marc Chagall’s painting “Le Cirque” (the circus, how appropriate). Rybolovlev purchased the work and had it shipped to the Geneva freeport, founded by Bouvier, which is a tax-free haven for artworks. Essentially, art owners don’t have to pay taxes on their work unless it leaves the freeport. So, think of it as the world’s biggest and most valuable art gallery, where nobody can see what’s on display. Anyhow, “Le Cirque” arrived without a certificate of authenticity. Bouvier offered to track it down, and when he did, an impressed Rybolovlev made him his permanent art dealer. However, there was one thing Bouvier didn’t tell Rybolovlev — he already knew the owner of “Le Cirque.” His “discovery” of the certificate wasn’t as miraculous as it appeared to be. As the relationship develops, Bouvier starts buying paintings himself and flipping them to Rybolovlev, without the oligarch’s knowledge, his tens of millions of markups earning him far more than his 2% commission. Cleverly, Bouvier never fronts the money for the purchases himself, waiting for the Rybolovlev deals to go through before paying off who he needs to.

Rybolovlev’s lawyer and associates tell his side of the story, laying out a case for Bouvier’s duplicity. Surprisingly, Bouvier appears on camera to explain himself. His defense vacillates between positioning himself as just another merchant making the most of an opportunity to sell to one of the richest people in the world, to declaring his own right to privacy. Essentially, Bouvier believes he didn’t owe Rybolovlev transparency about the fact he was technically selling him a painting he (temporarily) owned. But the shadiness extends outside Bouvier’s orbit as even the auction houses seem willing to be blind when piles of cash are exchanging hands.

Unfolding in a murky universe of shell corporations, offshore accounts, and millions and millions of dollars moving across borders, the narrative lines of The Oligarch and the Art Dealer remain clear. Dalsgaard pulls the pisces of this tale together into a thrilling procedural; when the first episode ends, it’s a true bummer there isn’t another one immediately following. But it’s a sure bet the streamers in Park City will be battling for the rights, so it won’t be long until we see where the winding path of Bouvier vs. Rybolovlev leads next.

Director: Andreas Dalsgaard
Screenplay: Kevin Lincoln, Andreas Dalsgaard, Christoph Jorg
Producers: Christoph Jörg, Miriam Norgaard
Cinematography: Adam Morris Philp
Editing: Estephan Wagner, Martin Anthon
Music: Alexander Reumers
World Sales: CAA
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (Episodic Pilot Nonfiction Showcase)
In English, French
60 minutes

Things didn’t get off to a good start. During the festival’s opening weekend, Representative Maxwell Alejandro Frost, a Florida Democrat, recounted being punched in the face by a man who uttered racist remarks and said, “Trump was going to deport me.” Meanwhile, the harrowing events in Minneapolis continued to unfold and were on every film-goer’s mind. “We are sitting here talking about movies while an illegal army is being mounted against US citizens,” actor Edward Norton said during press rounds for Olivia Wilde’s The Invite.

Nonetheless, audiences and filmmakers soldiered on, and buyers were busy. The mountain air always seems to power big-time deals, and Neon snapped up North American theatrical and international rights to the buzzy queer horror Midnight flick, Leviticus. Meanwhile, A24 and Focus are grappling over The Invite, based on the Spanish film The People Upstairs and starring Wilde, Norton, Seth Rogen, and Penelope Cruz. The surprise, buyers-only screening of Jim Rash and Nat Faxon’s Miss You, Love You was buoyed by Julia Roberts who popped into town to show her support, even though she’s not in the film.

Among the pictures generating must-see accolades is Carousel, a romance starring Chris Pine and Jenny Slate, from director Rachel Lambert, whose last effort was the severely underrated Sometimes I Think About Dying. Gregg Araki’s saucy I Want Your Sex sparked discussions about Gen Z’s timidity toward sex. Beth de Araujo’s Josephine starring Gemma Chan and Channing Tatum is already sparking awards season predictions. David Wain’s big broad comedy Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass earned lots of laughs with its outrageous hijinks paired with plenty of cameos. And Charli xcx continues her move into movies with The Moment, a music world satire that looks to finally close the curtain on brat season.

European Film Promotion were busy on the ground, getting the word out about a strong handful of movies. Among the highlights is Andrius Blazevicius How To Divorce During The War, a thorny look at Russia’s invasion of Ukraine through the lens of a couple falling apart and turning to activism. The title seems poised to be a favorite with programmers at festivals through the rest of the year. Sinead O’Shea’s documentary All About the Money should draw similar interest, with its timely look at the fascinating story of James “Fergie” Chambers, a mega-multimillionaire using his wealth to fund a revolution. Coming from the other end of the equation, Visar Morina’s drama Shame and Money is a highlight chronicling a Kosovar family who find themselves starting over and struggling to make ends meet in the gig economy.

Next year, the Sundance Film Festival will trade the hustle and bustle of Park City for Boulder, Colorado. It will be an interesting transition for a festival that has long staked its reputation on the intimacy Sundance affords; the possibility that you’ll be sharing a screening room or bus ride with an A-lister seated beside you or a future Christopher Nolan or Steven Soderbergh next to you in line for a sandwich. But as the festival approaches its 50th year, it’s no longer the cozy shindig first started by Robert Redford — it’s an event that reminds us that in a world that seems more divided, cinema has the power to bring us together.

11-year-old Iris is a latchkey kid. School’s out, the sun is shining, and she spends her days anywhere but home. Iris prefers the company of older people, and is either found hanging out with the elderly men on the street playing tavli, or with the teenage Danae, her best friend. Iris’ summer idyll takes a turn when Aris, her estranged father, returns to town for his own father’s funeral. Already gone when Iris’ older brother Fivo was a toddler, she’s never known him. Never talked with him. She doesn’t even have a picture of them together. With her mother away spending a few days with her new boyfriend, Iris has plenty of opportunity to get into trouble. And when she winds up in a scrape with local law enforcement, it’s Aris who has to come and straighten things out. But this hardly means he’s going to step in and become the fatherly role model she’s never had.

As soon as Iris is out of the police station, Aris goes his own way. Seeing his offspring again for this first time in a decade hasn’t stirred any feelings of sentiment or nostalgia. But with Danae occupied with a new boyfriend, Iris can’t help but be drawn to Aris, and soon finds herself tagging along on his misadventures. Eventually won over by Iris’ stubbornness, Aris allows her a glimpse into his world of running small scams, betting on horses, and hanging out in seedy bars. Aris does anything for a buck, and his father is barely cold in the ground, when he’s selling his belonging at a local market. But a darker cloud hangs over Aris that he tries to keep from Iris — he’s in debt to the kind of guys you don’t want to be in debt to.

Drifting along with the welcoming, unplanned air of summertime, Aristidou’s screenplay comprises of a loose string of episodic events. The result, however, is mixed. Tonally, the picture blends its naturalism with melodrama, overcooked by Alex Weston’s on-the-nose score, that too often brings the viewer to picture emotional beats rather than letting them find it themselves. And when the story, that we’ve often seen before — a no-goodnik father connects with his daughter — heads in the expected direction, this tendency to flagpost the film’s key events works to its detriment.

The heart of Hold Onto Me belongs to Christos Passalis and Maria Petrova, whose chemistry matches the film’s golden palette from cinematographer Lasse Ulvedal Tolboll. In her debut role, the young Petrova as Iris easily holds the center of a picture that requires her in almost every frame. And her portrayal of Iris — both tough and vulnerable — acts as perfect foil to Aris. Passalis, a seasoned actor and filmmaker, hides his character’s difficulties beneath a mask of easygoing charm.

As Hold Onto Me reaches its third act, the picture slips off into a story about bad guys and drug-running that starts to overshadow Iris and Aris. Nevertheless, Passalis and Petrova are always presenting nothing short of the truth of their characters, even if the film around it sometimes struggles to be as articulate.

Director, screenplay: Myrsini Aristidou
Cast: Christos Passalis, Maria Petrova
Producers: Myrsini Aristidou, Monica Nicolaidou
Cinematography: Lasse Ulvedal Tolboll
Production design: Dimitra Sourlantzi
Editing: Jenna Mangulad, Myrsini Aristidou
Music: Alex Weston
Sound: Kostas Varympopiotis
Production companies: One Six One Films (Cyprus)
World Sales: Cercamon
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Dramatic Competition)
In Greek
102 minutes

Just as we get acquainted with their domestic routine, Marija (Zygimante Elena Jakstaite) drops a bombshell on her husband, Vytas (Marius Repsys) — she wants a divorce. No therapy, no talking it out. It’s over. In one of the best sequences of marital fracture in recent memory, Blazevicius lets their conversation unfold in one, almost entirely static long take. We watch the couple through the windshield of their car unpacking this life-altering event as they wait for their daughter Dovile (Amelija Adomaityte) to finish her music lesson. Except for a couple of outbursts, Marija calmly states she’s fallen out of love with Vytas, as he grapples to make sense of what he’s hearing. The scene unfolds with a disarming realism and sets the tone for what’s to come as the two go their separate ways.

Then Russia invades Ukraine.

The attack sends a shockwave across Lithuania as citizens wonder if their country is next. Everyone is rattled, but as Marija tells the employees under her at Hungry Rabbit, the content creation company where she works, they need to “move on.” That goes for Vytas too, who packs up his things and moves in with his parents, where the filmmaker tries to focus on getting his next screenplay finished. In the days that follow the separation and the war, Marija and Vytas find their own ways of showing their support for Ukrainians. After Hungry Rabbit shareholders refuse to close their Russian branch under mounting public pressure, Marija quits her job, takes in a refugee family, and pins up a Ukrainian flag on the balcony. Vytas stars volunteering at a food bank, participating in public demonstrations, and whenever he comes across a vehicle with a Russian license plate, finds the nearest rock to throw through its window. If Vytas doesn’t see the irony of being displaced from his own home with migrants taking his place, we certainly do.

These visible acts are paralleled by forbidden desires. Marija continues to explore her secretive relationship with Jurate (Indre Patkauskaite), a co-worker she was seeing before the split from Vytas, despite denying there was anyone else in the picture. Vytas finds physical and emotional comfort from an escort service where he’s long been a regular. In between is Dovile, outwardly placid, but inwardly troubled, as she, perhaps like Ukraine itself, wonders about what fate has in store from the unpredictable actions of those around her.

Adorned with an intriguingly off-kilter, atonal score by Jakub Rataj, the picture maintains an undercurrent of unease — for how could anything these characters are going through be normal? Despite each of them putting on a brave face and soldiering on, Marija, Vytas and Dovile privately shed their tears. When everything they’re repressing finally boils over, their anger manifests in some form of violence.

Blazevicius’ intelligent screenplay ponders the outcome of a person (or state) who find themselves ill-equipped or unwilling to reckon with the hard truths of their situation. Who believe taking action can be a substitute for truly reckoning about where your heart truly lies. As Marija grapples with the extent of what she can do to support Ukraine, there is something more honest about Jurate responding that she’s donated what she can to charity and leaves it at that.

Ultimately, the facade of both Marija and Vytas’ activism cannot be maintained nor the discomfort of trying to start over on their own. “I just can’t live with them,” Marija tells the social worker about the Ukrainians in her home. She also finds her position about Hungry Rabbit maintaining operations in Russia softening — after all, it’s not her taxes going to the Putin government, it’s the company’s.

How to Divorce During the War may be a touch cynical in drawing a line between those who settle in love and the sometimes reflexively empty nature of activism, but it’s a necessary tenor. As the current Ukraine/Russia war approaches its fourth year, the question remains of where the displaced will truly belong long after the flags are taken down and hashtags stop trending. Blazevicius perhaps suggests Ukrainians will be embraced, wherever they may be, but the arms around them might not be so warm from those who just want to move on.

Director, screenplay: Andrius Blazevicius
Cast: Marius Repsys, Zygimante Elena Jakstaite, Amelija Adomaityt?, Indre Patkauskaite, Gintare Parulyte
Producers: Marija Razgute
Cinematography: Narvydas Naujalis
Production design: Greta Viliekyte
Editing: Anna Ryndova
Music: Jakub Rataj
Production companies: M-Films (Lithuania)
World Sales: New Europe Film Sales
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Dramatic Competition)
In Lithuanian, English, Russian, Ukrainian
108 minutes

“I just thought it was an amazing story,” O’Shea says about the decision to pick up a camera and profile Fergie. “This man who was from one of America’s richest families who were so emblematic of the establishment…I was very curious to know more because he was so opposed to their way of being.”

Deeply knowledgeable in Marxist/Leninist theory, highly opinionated, and politically driven, Fergie is not one to take half-measures when it comes to putting his words into action.

”It certainly wasn’t just rhetoric, he was following through,” O’Shea says. The director reached out through Instagram to Fergie, who became a willing subject for the film. “He’s such an interesting person because one of his great principles is that rich people hide in discretion. And one way in which he wants to upset the order is to speak out. So for him, it is a political act to be so frank.”

In an era of deep political division, it may seem counterintuitive or even contradictory for someone like Fergie to pontificate so openly. But there is something refreshing throughout All About the Money in having access to a member of the 0.01% who is frank and unguarded in his views.

“I don’t know how he interacts with other people, but I found him very open. As I say, it is a political position for him to share. And he is someone who wants to be understood. And he is somebody, I think, who’s embodying very complex and sometimes paradoxical positions,” the filmmaker explains. “So I think it’s quite vital to his sense of being to be able to explain [his positions] and to make [them] comprehensible. And I was willing and really enjoyed listening to him.”

As the film progresses, the events in Gaza shift the narrative trajectory, as James Chambers decamps to Tunisia after a direct action protest at Elbit offices leads to some of his comrades being arrested. While there, he invests in a local soccer club, and for a spell visibly enjoys and embraces the accoutrements of the super wealthy. And while some may use this as a weapon to knock Fergie’s dedication to change, O’Shea takes a more measured view.

“He is generally somebody who does own the contradictions of what he’s trying to do. He is definitely a class traitor. But he’s still bound by certain realities of the wealth that he possesses,” she explains. “I felt it was important to just let him articulate that and I also felt it was important for this to be a film that I could leave for others to understand, because I feel the world is teeming right now with opinion pieces and they’re actually not that useful. And what we need is some kind of objective reportage. And that’s become very political. It’s become very political to just tell the truth. And it’s actually very difficult to just gather all this material and present it as faithfully as possible. This film is very difficult to categorize it’s very complex and it’s actually, I think, kind of quite old fashioned almost. It’s actually a document of reality that I witnessed.”

Despite Fergie’s willingness to appear on camera, towards the end of production, he attempted to buy out the film and O’Shea to prevent the movie from being released. The director declined and Fergie relented, but it turns out it wasn’t because he was worried about anything he shared in the movie — rather, he would’ve preferred more of it.

“I wasn’t aligned with Fergie about all his politics, but at the same time, it was not my place to cancel him [or] interrogate [him] because it’s all part of that story. And those political beliefs are absolutely central to him,” O’Shea says. “The reason he didn’t like the film was because he felt there wasn’t enough politics in it. [Fergie felt] I watered down the politics a little. And so I really want to acknowledge that and own it [but] I don’t believe that I did. And we can agree to disagree, which is a phrase he despises. I don’t think I’d watered down his positions, you know, on Israel, say, or on Donbass or Putin, but he felt there just wasn’t enough of it in the film.”

As the picture ends, the future looks uncertain for Fergie, who is currently settled in Ireland. One wonders if he’ll continue to be the public face of the politics he supports, or choose to operate behind the curtain. Even O’Shea can’t venture what Fergie might do next.

“My feeling is that he’s going to [continue] funding a lot of political action [but] he’s done his time sort of articulating his positions,” the director says. “He’s very, very committed, but I think he’s just looking at a way now of doing things in in which he can be as most effective. I feel like I’m going to this premiere tomorrow so blind, you know? What will people think? [Will] people start booing? Will they start cheering? Because that’s the thing with him. I believe he says things that really connect with people.”

Gara has known the pastures of Sinjajevina her entire life. She considers the mountain range to be her mother, and its inhabitants its children. Cows graze among its grasses, producing milk that creates unique variants of Montenegrin cheese. Sheep bleating and countless stray kittens mewing provide the soundtrack to Gara’s day as she tends to her livestock. By her side is her adolescent daughter Nada, who expertly assists in every task that needs to be done. Theirs is a life of little luxury. There isn’t a television in sight, and if there is an internet connection, they certainly don’t have time for social media or email. But they live in an easy harmony with each other and their surroundings — until gunshots start being heard in the distance.

After taking in Eva Kraljevic’s stunning cinematography, and learning that the region is UNESCO protected, it beggars belief that the Montenegrin military would even considering building a NATO training ground anywhere on this land. Gara is in disbelief too and, along with her neighbors, works to drive any such intrusion out of the vast sweep of their home. The army’s rationale that Sinjajevina offers an ideal backdrop to military vehicles and weapons is so absurd, the filmmakers don’t waste time engaging other sides of the argument.

Indeed, To Hold A Mountain draws its focus primarily on a way of life that is not only worth protecting, but brings with it knowledge and skills that have been passed down from one generation to the next. Tutorov and Glomazic’s contemplative and observant picture is more attuned to the rhythms of Gara and Nada’s life than the traditional framework of a David versus Goliath story. Aside from a couple of sequences of community action, and another of Gara appearing on a television news show to confront military officials, the film stays rooted in its pastoral milieu.

Gara’s devotion to her homeland and her reasons for defending it are clear, but beneath them, perhaps unspoken, is also a rejection of the male violence that has haunted her life. We come to learn that Nada is not actually her daughter, but her niece. Gara’s sister Mika was brutally murdered shortly after Nada was born by her ex-husband. And casting a shadow over the narrative is the man’s release from prison and what steps he might or might not take to reconnect with the family he brutalized. It would not be a leap to suggest that Gara correlates domestic violence with the military forcing themselves onto her “mother” Sinjajevina.

Hard-won victory eventually comes for Gara and her community, but progress still makes its presence known. The film’s most quietly shocking image is simply that of a dirt road being paved over with asphalt. Even if the military won’t run their exercises, the area has been pegged as a burgeoning eco-tourism hotspot. The outside world will find its way in one way or another, but at the very least, Gara has set the terms and shown Nada how it can be done in the years ahead.

Directors, screenplay: Biljana Tutorov, Petar Glomazic 
With: Mileva Gara Jovanovic, Nada Stanisi
Producers: Petar Glomazic, Quentin Laurent, Rok Bicek
Cinematography: Eva Kraljevic
Editing: George Cragg
Music: Drasko Adzic
Sound: Julij Zornik, Samo Jurca
Production companies: Wake Up Films (Serbia)
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Documentary Competition)
In Montenegrin
103 minutes 

The film begins two years ago in the bucolic surroundings of Alford, Massachusetts. It’s here that James launches a Marxist-Leninist dream — a fully-funded compound, where he pays the residents to work the land and live collectively. At its heart — in a move that would make both Bob Ferguson and Sensei from One Battle After Another proud — is a jiu-jitsu gym that will “prep professional revolutionaries.” To his credit, James puts his money where his mouth is. He buys a handful of properties and allows a half dozen residents, aligned with his ideals, to live there for free. They’re each given a stipend and commit to trying to enact some kind of vision of a non-capitalist utopia. No one scrutinizes too closely or seems to notice that the commune’s socialist/communist mission is vaguely defined, nor that its existence rests on an uber-wealthy benefactor. Perhaps that’s because no one is more excited than “Fergie” himself, whose allegiance to all things Marx/Lenin runs from the tattoos across his body to following the Russian Orthodox Church. But it doesn’t include living among his fellow agitators.

Everything changes on October 7, 2023. In a heartbeat, James founds Palestine Action US (now known as Unity of Fields) and most of his communist cohorts take to the streets to protest the genocide in Gaza. This soon leads to direct action, resulting in a protest at the offices of weapons manufacturer Elbit in Merrimack, New Hampshire. Arrests are made, charges are laid, and James packs up and moves to Tunisia — a country that coincidentally doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. There he radically changes his life. He converts to Islam and invests millions in a local, debt-ridden football club, saving the team. In short order, he becomes a local celebrity. He watches football matches from his private box, dining on fine food, as fans riot in the stands to his visible enjoyment. Suddenly, it seems as if he’s feasting on life’s excesses in the same way Jordan Belfort might. It hardly looks like the actions of a man ready to tear down the system from which he benefits so abundantly.

So just who, exactly, is the real James “Fergie” Chambers? Allowing himself to be put front and centre of the documentary, James is disarmingly candid about his own failures. He’s the first to admit the inherent hypocrisies and fundamental flaws of a white man from a background of extreme privilege attempting to stoke change among the proletariat. Some may take issue that O’Shea doesn’t interrogate him more intensely, but it’s a canny choice. By not boxing him into an ideal of who he should be, the filmmaker lets James reveal himself as the magnetic, troubling, charming, and maddening person that he is.

The film’s conclusion is marked by two revelatory episodes. The first is a final interview, at James’s request, where he lays bare secrets and traumas of his adolescence that have colored his way of moving in the world as an adult. The final grace note is that, for all his candor, he offers to cover the film’s production cost and pay the director a fee to prevent All About the Money from being seen. O’Shea refuses and James relents. It’s an interesting turn from a man who has long maintained that the wealthy hold on to their power by keeping their indiscretions private, and a man who has spent his life bucking against that rule. And while one suspects this won’t be the last we hear of “Fergie”, his greatest move to come may be the one where we don’t see his hand in it at all.

Director, screenplay: Sinead O’Shea
Producers: Sinéad O’Shea, Claire McCabe, Harry Vaughn, Katie Holly, Sigrid Dyekjaer
Editing: Enda O’Dowd
Music: George Brennan
Production companies: SOS Productions (Ireland), Real Lava (Denmark)
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Documentary Competition)
In English
95 minutes

Shaban (Astrit Kabashi) runs a dairy film in Kosovo’s gorgeous rolling countryside with his wife Hatixhe (Flonje Kodheli) and their young children. The work is hard, honest, and though it’s not lucrative, they play an important role within their small community and carry themselves honorably. Shaban’s mother (Kumrije Hoxha) presides over the family both financially and authoritatively. The elderly woman’s savings are a necessary reserve, and she brokers the peace between the fractious relationships of Shaban and his siblings. But when Shaban’s desperate brother Liridon (Tristan Halilaj) steals some of his mother’s money, and absconds to Germany, it’s the spiteful act of letting the farm’s cows out of the pen that deals the final, irrevocable blow. Their livelihood snatched away in an instant, Shaban, his mother, wife, and children pack up for the capital of Pristina where they hope to start over.

Hatixhe’s sister Lina (Fiona Gllavica) and her husband Alban (Alban Ukaj) help them find an apartment and some temporary work. But when living at the apartment becomes untenable, the family moves into the tiny guest house behind Alban and Lina’s large, imposing, and impressive modern home. Though Alban makes it clear to his brother-in-law his home has plenty of space for them, Shaban is too proud to be a burden. Regardless, he needs to feed his family, and when the part-time gig cleaning a nightclub doesn’t make ends meet, Shaban lines up with on the street with the day labourers each morning, hoping — begging — to get selected for backbreaking work in exchange for ten or twenty euros. This irks Alban, who worries about his reputation should his neighbors see his own family putting their hand out, but as Hatixhe tells Lina, shame is a luxury they’re able to afford.

In the countryside, Shaban or Hatixhe may not have made much money, but their work played a vital function in their community, and was carried by a measurable rhythm from dawn to dusk. The screenplay by Morina and Doruntina Basha subtly but effectively illustrates what happens when one’s living is provided from the sputtering tap of the gig economy. With no source of steady income, Shaban and Hatixhe’s visits to rental apartments are fruitless exercises. When Alban tells Shaban to put together CV, it’s a laughable request, for what is someone who has worked all their life on a farm supposed to put on a resume?

Shame and Money gets to the cold heart of the punishment the dignity of the working class endures. The way low wage workers must feel grateful not only for the few shifts they’re allotted, but for the pittance they receive. How they must shrivel themselves when any momentary light of kindness is shined upon them by their benefactors. In short, they must be thankful for their very exploitation and should they dare to complain, there’s someone to waiting to replace them.

The picture slowly builds toward a conclusion both shocking and enigmatic that doesn’t quite support the frankness of the film that came before. Nonetheless, the haunting nature of Shame and Money lingers in two unforgettable shots. The first comes as Shaban and Hatixhe walk by the Newborn monument celebrating Kosovo’s independence as they go in and out of shops looking for work. The other is a winding tracking shot that ends gazing up at a statue of Bill Clinton, built to commemorate his allyship with Albanians in Kosovo against the Yugoslav government. The choices by Morina suggest that in gaining their independence, Kosovo — granted membership in institutions like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank — have bought into a system that threatens its people with a new danger: the ruthless cruelty and machinery of the modern economy.

Director: Visar Morina
Screenplay: Visar Morina, Doruntina Basha
Cast: Astrit Kabashi, Flonja Kodheli, Kumrije Hoxha, Fiona Gllavica, Alban Ukaj
Producers: Fabian Altenried, Sophie Ahrens, Kristof Gerega, Pia Hellenthal, Visar Morina
Cinematography: Janis Mazuch
Production design: Burim Arifi
Costume design: Desantila Lika
Editing: Joelle Alexis
Music: Mario Batkovic
Sound: Igor Popovski
Production companies: Vicky Bane (Germany), Schuldenberg Films (Germany), Eagle Eye Films (Kosovo), Vertigo (Slovenia), On Film (Albania), List Production (North Macedonia), Quetzalcoatl (Belgium)
World Sales: The Yellow Affair
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema Dramatic Competition)
In Albanian
130 minutes

One of Sundance’s most undersung qualities is the depth of its international programming. This year, European Film Promotion are backing a strong handful of movies that are dialled into the current moment and promise to be exciting options for those navigating the snowy sidewalks of Park City.

Capitalism is a force to be reckoned with across a trio of pictures. Visar Morina’s third feature, Shame and Money, follows a Kosovar family who find their rural farming life upended following a sudden financial loss. Starting over in the capital of Pristina, patriarch Shaban soon finds himself struggling to make ends meet in an economic landscape where the only guarantee is precarity. Sinead O’Shea shines an utterly captivating light on James “Fergie” Chambers, a bad boy member of the 0.01%, in her documentary All About The Money. A self-disavowed member of one of the wealthiest families in the United States, Fergie rails against his own financial status and privilege by starting a communist compound in rural Massachusetts. From there a globe-trotting tale emerges where Fergie realizes that money and ideals don’t always mix. Meanwhile, audiences will get a taste of the upcoming series The Oligarch and the Art Dealer with the debut of its first episode. The docu follows high profile, Swiss art dealer Yves Bouvier who is accused of betrayal by his Russian collector Dimitry Rybolovlev. Can a Rothko or Da Vinci fix the situation? We’ll have to wait to find out.

As the world seems headed worryingly closer to global conflict, a duo of pictures echo the concerns of many. Filmmaker Andrius Blazevicius unveils How To Divorce During The War, a drama that follows Marija and Vytas whose marriage is falling apart just as Russia invades Ukraine. To Hold A Mountain is a documentary by Biljana Tutorov and Petar Glomazic that chronicles Gara, a shepherd and mother who fights to protect her ancestral lands in the Montenegro highlands from being turned into a NATO training facility.

Rounding out EFP’s selections are Frank & Louis, the next effort from writer-director Petra Volpe, the filmmaker behind Switzerland’s Oscar contender Late Shift. The drama stars Kingsley Ben-Adir as a convict who takes up caring for prisoners suffering from Alzheimer’s and dementia in a bid for parole, only to forge an unexpected bond with one patient, played by Rob Morgan. Lastly is Myrsini Aristidou’s Hold Onto Me, in which an 11-year-old navigates a strained relationship with her estranged father.

Pack some layers, bring your boots, and get ready — the Sundance Film Festival runs from January 22nd to February 1st.

SONJA HEINE: Yes, definitely. One very good trend: European films are doing really well at Sundance. For example, last year sixty-six percent of the European films screened at Sundance were sold, which is fantastic. Sundance is a very competitive festival, and of course we always wish there were even more European films in the programme. But Sundance is a unique platform for European premieres – not only for the festival audience, but especially for North American buyers.

TFV: During Sundance the EUROPE! HUB holds many activities and events to bring filmmakers together. How do you measure the impact and success of these events? What details can you give regarding this year’s activities?

S.H.: Our main goal with the EUROPE! HUB at Sundance is to create awareness for the diversity of European filmmaking. This is truly part of our DNA, because we represent film promotion institutes from thirty-seven countries. And each year, some of them support us with financing the Hub. This year, the Slovenian Film Center, Screen Ireland and German Films are supporting us – and of course Creative Europe MEDIA as our main funder.

We are proud of the European filmmakers whose films are screened at Sundance, and we are happy to support them with promotion and networking. We also want to offer a space where Europeans can meet the North American industry (and other international guests) attending the festival – and vice versa. The Hub serves also as a “one-stop-shop for all things European” – usually filmmakers and producers from outside Europe come there to ask how they could work with Europe. It is open all day from Thursday to Monday, and everyone is welcome to come by for meetings, networking, coffee, or simply to warm up ?.

Measuring success is not always easy, because the films are not ours. We are not selling them – we can just try to be useful for the filmmakers, producers and sales companies who do. But we can boost visibility, create connections, and help films travel further. We make films discoverable for buyers and festival programmers, for example through curated exclusive online showcases before the festival, and with targeted promotion measures. After the festival, we collect feedback from filmmakers, sales companies and buyers – and that gives us a very good picture of what worked well. For us, success means putting European films in the spotlight and helping the European industry to be visible, accessible and competitive.

TFV: The current climate in the United States is quite different from previous years. Has it affected Europeans wanting to attend Sundance?

S.H.: So far, we cannot say that. Sundance is an excellent festival, and filmmakers are always very proud when their film is selected.

TFV: After Sundance, what is your next stop? What can you tell us about EFP’s 2026 plans?

S.H.: Of course, happy to! Next, we are very excited to introduce the new EUROPEAN SHOOTING STARS at the Berlinale – ten of Europe’s top upcoming talents who are already well-known in their home territories and now absolutely ready to work internationally.

After that, we continue with EUROPE! DOCS at CPH:DOX and then go to FILMART Hong Kong, where we will run another EUROPE! HUB for European sales companies at the market.

Then we focus on Latin America, where we present the Latin American Critics Awards for European Films, to increase the visibility of European cinema and its diversity across Latin America. The jury is made up of 33 Latin American film critics from 13 different countries, selecting the winning film in an online process from submissions from multiple European countries.

Then it is PRODUCERS ON THE MOVE time again: we will introduce 20 promising producers for international co-production at Cannes – from 20 different countries.

After that, we go to Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, with which we have been collaborating for many years. There, we proudly present the next generation of filmmakers from all over Europe in our programme FUTURE FRAMES.

And after that… there is of course more to come from Europe. We love bringing the best of Europe to the international industry – and we are definitely not running out of exciting talent anytime soon.

TFV: Any favorite spot that you enjoy while attending Sundance?

S.H.: Absolutely: our EUROPE! HUB at The Yarrow Doubletree Hilton. Please come by – we will save you a coffee. ?