Celebrating his debut feature, director Harry Lighton doesn’t just dip a toe into cinema waters—he plunges headfirst with Pillion, an intoxicating exploration that grabbed me from the very first scene. If you’re part of the gay community, or even just a sucker for compelling love stories, this film’s premise alone sparks curiosity: a shy young man’s initiation into both love and submission, guided by a menacingly magnetic biker gang leader. And guess who steps into that dominant role? None other than the captivating Alexander Skarsgård—delivering a portrayal that simply takes your breath away.
Let’s talk about Colin and Ray, the unusual duo at the story’s heart. Colin, portrayed by Harry Melling, is the picture of social awkwardness. There’s a quiet intensity about him, like a soul wandering in a fog, slightly out of sync with the world. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy—here’s a guy who lives quietly, tucked away in his parents’ home, dabbling in a quaint folk band, and seemingly untouched by romantic experience. Then enters Ray, a strikingly charismatic figure, a biker gang leader exuding raw, rugged masculinity. But more than that, Ray is a man bound to dominance, seeking an obedient counterpart not for casual fun, but as a defining part of his existence. His gaze pins Colin as someone with untapped potential for submission—a subtle, electric moment that set the screen ablaze for me.
Watching Skarsgård embody Ray is like witnessing a force of nature. His blond hair glistens under the camera’s eye, channeling an almost otherworldly presence—the kind of dark prince Tom of Finland might have sketched in his most provocative dreams. Skarsgård doesn’t just play Ray; he is Ray, radiating an unshakable authority that seeps into every frame, igniting desire and curiosity in equal measure. The screenplay cleverly winks at this contrast: the untamed, almost mythical beauty of Ray against Colin’s humble, uncertain façade. It’s a visual and emotional dance that had me utterly captivated.
But don’t expect the film to flood you with cliché scenes of destructive kink. Instead, Pillion gracefully maneuvers into the territory of emotional education. It’s a tender journey into love’s complex terrain, viewed through Colin’s innocent eyes as he learns not only about desire but about himself. Their bond unveils a nuanced awakening, a cerebral rendezvous with BDSM that elevates the experience beyond mere physicality. With Ray as his guide, Colin discovers boundaries, preferences, and the delicate interplay of power and trust that defines their connection.
What struck me most was how improbably endearing their relationship is. Ray, the relentless macho, lives his dominance like a second skin—a relentless identity rather than a casual game. In his biker circle, other dominants parade their submissives like badges of honor, and this world’s strict rules feel both alien and intimate. Seeing Colin’s perspective pull us into this universe, where he’s swept away by emotions he barely understands, was like following a moth drawn to a flickering flame—dangerous yet irresistible.
The film’s portrayal of BDSM is refreshingly respectful and nuanced. There’s a magic here, a portal into a realm where societal norms fade and raw, coded rituals create a secret language between two people. Lighton’s direction pulses with empathy; he avoids the usual pitfalls of sensationalism, instead breathing warmth and occasional humor into the otherwise intense dynamic. Some scenes even had me chuckling quietly at the absurdities born of two wildly different souls colliding.
Still, I found myself asking—can Ray truly love? Or is he trapped behind walls forged by dominance? And can Colin hope to be more than a submissive, to become a beloved partner? This lingering question floats through the story like a whispered secret, especially as the film’s final act peels back layers of Ray’s enigmatic persona, revealing cracks reminiscent of psychological dramas like Clouzot’s La prisonnière. It’s unsettling and humanizing all at once.
In all honesty, Pillion left a mark on me—its beautiful storytelling and complex characters won my heart. This indie gem shining in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard section deservedly carves its place in Skarsgård’s impressive filmography. If you’ve ever yearned to see love stories that break free from the mold and explore the messy, magnificent shades of human connection, don’t let this one slip past you.
Though it’s yet to find a release date in France, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will tour the gay film festival circuit soon. Trust me, this is a film you’ll want to experience—raw, tender, and unforgettable.
