Here is a film that does not shy away from the most personal and intimate aspects of relationships and sex. From director Harry Lighton, Pillion is hot, heavy and the perfect spot between uncomfortable and comedic – certainly not one to watch with your parents, in any case.
Harry Melling stars as the awkward, gawky Colin, a parking inspector who still lives with his parents in his thirties and sings in a barbershop quartet at the weekends. When he meets the tall, brooding and devastatingly handsome biker Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), who arranges a meeting round the back of Primark on Christmas Day, he jumps at the occasion. Without conversation, the two begin a relationship, one in which Colin heads to Ray’s clinical home and… does his chores, sleeps on the floor and, every once in a while, engages in his sexual activity of choice. In his own words though, Colin also has “an aptitude for devotion”, and is more than happy to oblige – even when his head is shaved and he wears a thick chain around his neck, the key dangling from Ray’s tauntingly. But of course, all good things have their limits – as Ray’s demands persist without ever letting up, Colin begins to distance himself from his family and the boundaries he never had a chance to establish.
Melling and Skarsgård are certainly an unlikely duo as a couple who practice BDSM, and yet, onscreen they stun and silence, wonderfully complementary and bouncing off of each other with comedic brilliance. Melling as Colin is all blabber and no swag, endearing with soft eyes and pleases and thank yous – the journey in Pillion is really his, learning to navigate what he will and will not accept. Indeed, the hunky Ray poses this one essential question – where is the limit between BDSM and abuse? In this particular scenario, in which Colin never verbally consents, it is easy to see Ray as someone who takes advantage rather than someone with a kink. Yet, as Pillion develops, it becomes clear that he has wounds of his own, and Skarsgård portrays this dual between dominance and vulnerability beautifully, especially in the latter half when his tough exterior starts to crack. It’s funny to see him outside of these Hollywoodian sagas, instead sat down in front of a simple roast, hailing from Chislehurst.
The lack of dialogue works to Pillion’s credit, reduced to Colin’s occasional awkward, hesitant outbursts or Ray’s carefully chosen words. Everything is instead communicated with a look – or, more significantly, an action. Permeated with graphic sex, and BDSM sex at that, it is nevertheless never gratuitous, but rather an indication of one of the men’s internal monologue. It is refreshing to have this kind of relationship portrayed onscreen – as Ray starts to allow Colin to meet his fellow biker friends, a whole new world emerges, in which they serve as a “baseline”, one that slowly leads Colin on the path of self-reflection. It helps that the supporting actors are all part of the Gay Bikers Motorcycle Club (GBMCC) and served as advisors on the film too. It’s inclusive, but also delightfully funny – we never laugh with Colin, but his apologies, or the strange looks from his parents as they attempt to process their son’s relationship with a hunk like ray, are a joy to behold. What’s more astonishing is the relationship that blossoms between the two of them, and the glee when Ray allows Colin something that doesn’t usually fit with his agenda – notably, when Colin burns himself cooking and Ray runs water over his hands like a dutiful, worried mother hen, then, for once, allows him to sleep in his bed rather than on the floor. For this reason, the ending may leave to be desired – but trust that it is the best possible one for Pillion. It is in these moments that Lighton’s attention to detail and own agenda comes through – we are well and truly experiencing this for the first time, alongside Colin. Living life with Ray in this sense truly feels like a well-earned treat.
