The film’s title, Pillion, can be interpreted in several ways. On one hand, it refers to the passenger seat on a motorcycle — a powerful symbol of vulnerability and reliance on the driver. On the other, it suggests being carried through life, dependent on the choices and control of others. In both interpretations, the meaning is clear: this film is about dominance and submission.
Directed by Harry Lighton and based on Adam Mars-Jones’s novel Box Hill, the film stars Alexander Skarsgård as Ray, a brooding biker, and Harry Melling as Colin, a timid Gay man who becomes Ray’s submissive. Their relationship unfolds in the gritty streets of Bromley, London, where Colin, a barbershop singer living with his parents, is drawn into Ray’s world of leather, motorcycles, and BDSM.
The plot is as much about power dynamics as about intimacy. Colin meets Ray at a pub, and their connection is immediate and electric. What begins as a sexual encounter in a back alley evolves into a complex connection. Colin becomes Ray’s submissive, cooking, cleaning, and sleeping on the floor at Ray’s command. Yet, amid the strict rules and rituals, Colin finds a sense of belonging and exhilaration he’s never known before.
Melling delivers a deeply heartfelt performance, capturing Colin’s vulnerability and quiet strength. The character’s journey from naivety to self-awareness is both heartbreaking and inspiring. Melling’s portrayal is layered, showing Colin’s longing for love and his struggle to assert his own needs within the confines of their relationship.
Skarsgård is magnetic. His physicality — tall, chiseled, and commanding — makes him the perfect embodiment of a dominant figure. But he doesn’t rely solely on his looks; he brings depth to Ray, revealing glimpses of insecurity and tenderness beneath his stoic exterior. His chemistry with Melling is undeniable, making their interaction both compelling and unsettling.
The film doesn’t shy away from nudity or explicit scenes, but these moments are never gratuitous. They serve to deepen our understanding of the characters and their connection. And yes, we see Alexander’s butt — no prosthetics there, that’s real. However, the film makes use of a prosthetic penis, which has sparked plenty of conversation.
One of the film’s strengths is its refusal to judge its characters. Lighton presents their relationship with honesty, allowing the audience to see the humanity in their choices. Yes, some scenes are shocking, but they are grounded in the characters’ realities. The film invites us to empathize with Colin’s loneliness and his desire to be seen and valued.
But as events unfold, the question lingers: Is it too much? Colin’s devotion to Ray is unwavering, but at what cost? And what about Ray — does he truly care for Colin, or is he simply taking advantage of his submission? The film doesn’t offer easy answers, leaving the audience to grapple with the complexities of their dynamic.
The supporting cast also shines, particularly Lesley Sharp as Colin’s mother, Peggy. Her concern for her son adds another layer of tension to the story, highlighting the generational and cultural gaps in understanding Queer relationships. Jake Shears, the lead singer of Scissor Sisters, also appears in a supporting role as part of Ray’s biker gang, adding to the film’s strange and unsettling atmosphere.
Visually, Pillion is stunning. The cinematography captures the gritty beauty of London’s streets and the intimate moments between Colin and Ray. The scenes of Colin riding pillion on Ray’s motorcycle are particularly striking, symbolizing both his submission and his liberation.
At just an hour and 47 minutes, the film flies by. Every moment feels purposeful, and every scene is charged with emotion and meaning. Pillion is not just a film — it’s an experience. It’s a bold and refreshing exploration of Queer relationships that doesn’t shy away from the complexities of desire and power. Watch it. You’ll leave the theater with questions — and that’s exactly the point.
