It was a typical spring evening, one of those that blend into a daily routine. Samir Karahoda, a father, was taking his 13-year-old son, Miron, home from basketball practice. He remembers it vividly: it was April 22, 2024. At 9:05 p.m., his phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, he immediately recognized the French prefix.

“What’s that number?” Miron asked from the passenger seat.

“We’ve been selected for Cannes,” Karahoda replied.

On the other end of the line, he was informed that his latest project, “On the Way,” had been selected to premiere at the Cannes Film Festival, competing for the prestigious Palme d’Or for Short Film.

For many directors, such a moment would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But for Karahoda, it was the second time. Three years earlier, in 2021, he received a similar call when his short film “Displaced” was selected to premiere at Cannes.

This time, with “On the Way,” it was different. The film was the most personal one Karahoda had ever made — so personal that, at the 2024 Toronto Film Festival, it was described as semi-autobiographical.

Miron is at the heart of the film, as the very idea for the film emerged from a conversation Karahoda had with him. Miron had expressed a conviction — one shared by many of his peers — that Kosovo was not a place where one could build a future.

This conversation also unfolds in “On the Way,” where Miron plays himself, while the role of the father is portrayed by Kosovar actor Ylber Mehmeti. The film follows the two on a trip to the airport to collect a gift sent to Miron from abroad. Along the way, they stop to pick up a film festival award the father had won, which had been delivered by mail to Kosovo customs.

In the film, a customs officer recognizes the father and congratulates him on his work, mentioning that even the president of Kosovo had written about his success. Moments later, however, she informs him that to retrieve the award, he must pay a fee of nearly 200 euros, covering postage, storage at the post office and customs charges.

All of this is loosely based on real events. On his way to the airport in 2022, Karahoda had made a similar stop to collect an award from another prestigious film festival, Sundance, for his film “Displaced.” The congratulations from the president were also real; both she and the minister of culture, along with other political representatives, had dedicated posts to celebrating Karahoda’s success. Yet at customs, he was still required to pay.

“Imagine stopping athletes with medals around their necks at the airport as they return from competitions and asking them, ‘Can you pay, please?’” said Karahoda.

On screen, as in life, Karahoda encounters endless and exasperating bureaucracy that makes it feel like nothing ever changes. This profound sense of frustration fuels Karahoda’s work, which began three decades ago.

Unapologetically local

Karahoda’s journey into film began with photography. The turning point came in 1992, during one of the most challenging periods of his life, when he was just 15 years old.

His mother was gravely ill, and every moment was filled with the anxious anticipation of her passing. To help him cope with the weight of this anxiety, his aunt encouraged him to spend time at her sons’ photography shop.

His mother passed away a few days later, but Karahoda continued to visit the photography shop, where he eventually began working. Photography was not new to him; at family gatherings and school events, he was always behind the camera, capturing and preserving memories. He knew the camera was more than just a hobby.

Film as a counterbalance to despair

Director Samir Karahoda speaks and revolts through film.

Dafina Halili

Film as a counterbalance to despair

Director Samir Karahoda speaks and revolts through film.

Dafina Halili