‘Pillion’ Is Sexy in Leather

Pillion is a sexy ass film that deserves to be seen. The popular Heated Rivalry, an explicit gay romance, may be the gateway drug that helps this lovingly crafted, sexually explicit gay BDSM rom-com reach a wider audience. I hope so. Harry Melling and, ultimately, Alexander Skarsgård earn the audience’s time with their vulnerability. Thanks to the privacy of streaming services it probably will reach its people, though it was a pleasure to watch on the big screen. And isn’t an orgy meant to be enjoyed in the company of strangers?

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Pillion ★★★★ (4/5 stars)
Directed by: Harry Lighton
Written by: Harry Lighton, based on the 2020 novel Box Hill by Adam Mars-Jones
Starring: Harry Melling, Alexander Skarsgård
Running time: 107 minutes

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Portraying a gay dominant/submissive relationship in the context of a BDSM biker gang may sound niche, but its very specificity is the key to its success. In his feature film debut, Harry Lighton dives deeply into the subculture, creating multidimensional characters across the board. In this landscape, Colin’s (Melling) journey of self discovery, his struggles with universal problems like dating, assertiveness, and independence, are both heightened and relatable. Pillion is sweet and surprising and upsetting.

Pillion is not free of tropes – an off limits kiss reminiscent of Pretty Woman has its consequences – to its benefit. Despite my cursory knowledge of the BDSM world and relative naïveté about gay biker culture, Lighton’s use of traditional story structure let me see around the corner in a way that was comforting and familiar. The comic juxtaposition of outré-seeming gay biker culture with traditional suburban family lifestyle gives the uninitiated permission to laugh with our protagonist as he fumbles his way into new territory.

It’s Christmastime in Bromley, a borough in southeast London and Colin, a timid man in his thirties drives to a local pub to perform in a barbershop quartet with his father, Pete (Douglas Hodge, endearing). An imposing, leather-clad motorcycle rider pulls up next to them, then speeds past. In the pub, the quartet wear matching striped jackets and straw hats; they sing earnestly and well. Singing clearly brings Colin great joy.

Later that same evening, Colin is at the pub on a date set up by his mother, Peggy (Lesley Sharp, wonderful). Colin is less interested in his date, who sports a cheeky “Alexa, Free Britney” t-shirt (Grace Snell’s witty, detailed costumes do wonderful storytelling throughout) than in the bikers in the corner — specifically Ray (Skarsgård), that same biker who whizzed past earlier. While Colin struggles to get the barkeep’s attention, Ray strides up and orders three bags of crisps. He wordlessly dumps his change in front of Colin, who dutifully counts out the correct amount for the bartender. Colin hands the crisps to Ray, who writes him a note and walks away, crisps in hand. They haven’t exchanged a word, but Colin returns home flush with the encounter.

Colin’s choice to follow the instructions on the note marks the beginning of a relationship that will transform him. And confuse his parents. He is to meet Ray on Christmas night, of all nights! His parents are at once anxious for him to find love and concerned for his safety. The family scene before the liaison is tender and humorous, as his dad lends him an old motorcycle jacket and his mom suggests he take the dog along, seemingly for protection. We can’t help but smile when Colin enters the appointed abandoned town square wearing a too-big motorcycle jacket, a little dachshund on a leash. He ties his dog to a picket fence next to Ray’s rottweiler; the dogs perfectly reflect their owners.

Ray strides ahead of Colin, again wordless, and Colin dutifully hustles to catch up. Colin pauses at the entrance to an alley where Ray takes off his jacket and stands shirtless in leather overalls. Ray approaches Colin, “What am I going to do with you?” Colin replies, “Whatever you want.”

And that’s mostly what happens. Much of the film is charming and witty. The distance between Colin’s upbringing and his time spent with Ray is comically vast, and relatable. When Peggy insists that Colin bring a host gift of fancy soap to his first overnight at Ray’s, she is unaware that their main activity will feature her son in an assless singlet. The specifics may be foreign, but the incongruity is familiar. Colin’s mom does eventually pick up on the fact that this is not a traditional relationship, and it worries her.

We can see why she is concerned, there are many red flags in this relationship. But we can also see why Colin is smitten with Ray. He is handsome and imposing, and mysterious (read: withholding). When he arrives at Colin’s home to pick him up, he fills the door frame. Colin’s parents marvel. Ray declines an invitation to come inside but reassures them that Colin will wear his helmet (he does, always). He helps Colin onto the back of his motorcycle, pulling his arms around his waist. The ride is thrilling and dangerous – and intimate. Nick Morris’ cinematography shines in the nighttime motorcycle rides: Colin’s hands, in slow motion, caress the leather of Ray’s jacket as the world streaks by.

At Ray’s, Colin is ushered into a strict Dominant/Submissive relationship. He is to cook and clean and sleep on a rug at the foot of the bed – if he’s quiet enough, otherwise it will be the hall. Much of Ray’s behavior would raise those relationship red flags: signs that the person or relationship is problematic and you should run, not walk. Making Colin earn his subservient position is a classic manipulation: a bright red flag. But it’s a green flag for Colin, who is eager to please at any cost, for any reward.

The overnight is not an unmitigated success. Doubtful he’ll ever return, Colin prepares to leave, but Ray tells him to keep his fancy soap and return that evening, instructing him to “buy a butt plug, you’re too tight.” (If ever you need an actor to throw away a line about a butt plug, Alexander Skarsgård is your man.) Colin’s boyish delight at being asked to return and given a special, promising task imbues the moment with optimism akin to Richard Gere handing Julia Roberts his credit cards – he is being welcomed into a new world.

Pillion treats its salacious, “shocking” dialogue and racy action matter-of-factly, and builds its world with care. Writer/director Lighton, who adapted the screenplay from the novel Box Hill by Adam Mars-Jones, researched the gay BDSM world, spending time with The Gay Motorcycle Club, whose members served as consultants, and also portray bikers in the film. Lighton takes care to build a multidimensional society, one with laughter and friendship, pain and sorrow, just like any other culture – or sub-culture. The biker gang may be exotic, but it is not exoticized.

Colin moves in with Ray, continuing to sleep on the rug at the foot of his bed. Ray seems pleased with Colin, buying him custom motorcycle leathers and a heavy chain that locks around his neck. Ray wears the key. Colin shaves his head. Ray says he has “an aptitude for devotion.”

And he does. But it’s not easy being denied 24/7.

It’s worth noting that Ray’s domination of Colin is primarily emotional. The film includes graphic depictions of sexual dominance and submission – elements of bondage and sadomasochism are instantiated in the motorcycle gang, particularly in an orgy at a lakeside campground – and Ray dictates their sexual encounters, but his control extends far beyond the bedroom. They are master and servant. Ray issues commands, he never asks permission, and he withholds affection, access and information. This creates discomfort for Colin, and for us. When Ray gives his dog a seat on the couch but leaves Colin standing with his dinner plate, unsure where to put himself, we laugh uncomfortably not only because it is fantastically awkward, but because, in some way, we’ve been there – red flag! But Colin finds comfort in the discomfort. He knows that eventually he will be told what to do. He won’t have to make decisions. And, besides, those moments of affection are worth the wait – when Ray shines his light, it’s impossibly bright, the connection intoxicating.

In the 1940’s, renowned Harvard psychologist B.F. Skinner conducted a famous experiment where rats were fed unpredictably. Whenever they received food, the dopamine response was so strong that they developed an obsession. They checked for food constantly, even when it became plentiful and readily available. They had developed an addiction. People often point to this study when describing unhealthy relationships. Intermittent reinforcement is a red flag. Or, a classic dom move.

Ray’s withholding works on the audience as well. Just like Colin, we wait for the moments of tenderness. We want a breakthrough, even when we know a simple “No” is coming. And we get those highs. Even small moments of connection carry weight, intimacy made more intimate in this seemingly hostile environment. They also feel a little dangerous. This relationship is an agreement. It has rules. Ray made them and Colin follows them, but now Colin wants to renegotiate. He asks for one day off a week. Ray refuses at first, but finally grants Colin a day off. And it’s glorious, like the perfect first date, only better. But it marks the end. There is no going back for Ray and Colin never sees him again.

When Colin heals, he seeks out a similar relationship, but on his own terms. Colin has learned things about himself. He is not a man transformed (this is a romcom, not a fairytale), but he is changed. He is happy as a submissive. Life with Ray may have been too much, but, as per William Blake — “You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.” This time, Colin sets boundaries: he will keep his curls and have one day off a week. The journey has been exhausting, but there is hope.

Gathering my things at the end of the movie, I overhear two women commiserating that the film was triggering and that they need time to process. I, too, shook my head more than once during the film, reminded of behaviors that had been problematic for me in relationships, when I felt like my partner was trying to manipulate or control me. And, I remembered times when friends or family saw red where I saw green.

But I digress. Or not. If the goal of exploring the specific is to speak to the universal, Pillion succeeds.