Even when he’s sobbing […], the unnamed lead character in Babis Makridis’ sun-drenched, pitch-black comedy has a robotic quality, stiff-limbed and blank-faced. His ultra-mannered eccentricity might be attributed to his being partly the creation of Efthymis Filippou, the foremost screenwriter of the Greek Weird Wave, with Dogtooth, The Lobster and The Killing of a Sacred Deer among his credits.
[The film is] [p]ropelled by the winningly odd deadpan performance of Yannis Drakopoulos (Chevalier). Called simply “the Lawyer” in the film’s credits, Drakopoulos’ character is a hybrid of mournful silent-movie clown and loathsome pretender. His wife (Evi Saoulidou) has been hospitalized since an accident, her prospects of recovery from a coma looking increasingly dim. Or at least that’s how he prefers to see it, inviting others to do the same. He wears his pain with the same proud precision as his crisp lawyerly suits. His unapologetic sadness can feel like a form of bullying, manipulating others to fill the awkward silence with gestures of sympathy.
Makridis and director of photography Konstantinos Koukoulios use the widescreen frame eloquently, and the compositions often put geometry in the service of unspoken emotion […]. Through its droll combo of stillness and churning dysfunction, perfectly embodied by Drakopoulos, Pity deconstructs the artifice of feeling and, most wickedly, movie sentimentality.
Sheri Linden, The Hollywood Reporter