Pity (2018)

Pity is the kind of film that feels like a dare and a delight at once: a sharply observed, darkly funny satire built around a premise so unique it’s almost perversely ingenious. It watches its protagonist with a cool, clinical gaze, turning everyday routines into suspenseful comedy and letting the laughter catch in your throat as the implications sink in. Part of the Greek Weird Wave’s off-kilter charm, it’s clever in the way it escalates small social rituals into something both hilarious and faintly horrifying, without ever winking for approval. If you like your dramas strange, intelligent, and unsettling in the best way, this one sticks to you; if you need warmth or easy empathy, it may feel too chilly by design.

Pity is aiming for a dry, unsettling character study about a man who treats misery like a drug, and it commits hard to that bleak, deadpan tone. The problem is the film’s deliberate pace and repetitive rhythms can feel less like hypnotic satire and more like watching someone spiral in slow motion without enough escalation to justify the time. If you need a protagonist to root for, or even just a story that rewards your patience with a satisfying payoff, the final stretch may leave you irritated rather than impressed. That said, if you enjoy cold, absurdist European dramas that poke at performative suffering and don’t mind spending time with someone deeply unpleasant, it has a sharp concept and a few genuinely biting moments.