Pillion

In the past few weeks, we have communed in the forest with Shakespeare's tortured wife and unleashed the beasts of Emily Bronte's favorite fuck me/fuck you couple. Today, I decided to fast-forward to present-day London, specifically the suburb of Bromley, where the protagonist of Pillion, sadsack Colin, hands out parking tickets and sings with a local barbershop quartet. Though thirtyish and single, Colin still lives with his parents: not a good look for a young man looking for love (or some close facsimile thereof). Virtually friendless, Colin's social life is nil through no fault of his mum, who is determined to hook her son up with a new boyfriend if it's the last thing she ever does. And that may well be the case since the poor woman is dying of cancer. However, her quest is not so simple, given that Colin doesn't seem terribly appreciative of her efforts. All this is compounded by the fact that Colin is rather plain, a fact that is borne out by his shrinking demeanor and lack of confidence. The only time Colin ever seems assured is on the rare occasions he sings with the quartet, and even then, he's shy and  looking out over the crowd for something that he can't quite see . Then, one night, mum delivers, although the delivery is not quite what Colin has in mind. 

Reluctantly meeting his blind date in the local pub, Colin struggles to make small talk with this nice young man who is very much not Colin's dream boy. Suddenly Colin gets a gander at the tall--very tall--blonde Chad hanging out at the bar. Colin quickly scurries away from the table, ostensibly to buy his date a drink. And that's the last we see of Colin's potential suitor. At the bar, Colin orders an ale, serving furtive side-eye to the guy standing next to him: the man truly is magnificent, a Norse thunder god with a good haircut. He's also perceptive: he clocks Colin in a nanosecond. With a simple glance and hastily cribbed note, the man lures Colin out of the pub and into the nearest available dark alley, where he immediately pushes Colin to his knees. 

Getting down to business, this Adonis unzips his singlet and forces his generous member into Colin's shocked mouth. A newbie to back-alley rendezvous, Colin gags, spits and falls away from his unfazed trick. "Lick my boots," the man commands, and Colin complies, though not enthusiastically--at first. However, the more Colin's lips and tongue trace the leather of the boots, the more pliable he becomes. Before he knows it, he finds himself eye-level with the man's crotch. Now he can prove himself and complete the blowjob he fumbled earlier. Afterward, a triumphant Colin introduces himself, waiting for the blonde to respond.  "Ray," the man says, adding that it is unlikely that they'll meet again because he's "away a lot". Watching Ray ride away on his BMW sports bike, Colin is left standing in the alley with Ray's semen on his chin, befuddled and wanting more. 

And, by God, does he get it! Unbeknownst to Colin, this is part of Ray's game plan. 

The saga of Colin and Ray unfolds, chiefly, in Ray's surprisingly conventional house and, to a lesser degree, the BDSM world of a small gathering of gay bikers. The night after their first meeting, Colin winds up meeting Ray in the market square and, from then on, remains in Ray's clutches. Ray, he discovers, is no joke. Whether striding around in his tighty whitey Nascar-style leathers or all done up in black, Ray is unquestionably in charge. Meaning that Colin's parameters are continually put to the test as he fully submits himself to the control of this taciturn leather daddy. Throughout the film Ray remains mysterious and elusive (to Colin and to us). He keeps his own counsel, never hinting at his past, where he comes from, what he does for a living, not even his last name. Hell, Ray won't even kiss him, but Colin doesn't seem to mind. He just wants to serve, and perhaps learn from, this strange, beautiful creature. Maybe love will come later, if Ray doesn't kick him to the curb first. (Colin already sleeps on a rug at the foot of Ray's bed). In the meantime, Colin shaves his head--the better to fit in with Ray's motorcycle buddies--and starts wearing a locked chain around his neck to match the key worn by Ray. 

Is Pillion a love story? Well, perhaps an unorthodox love story, but I think it's more about Colin's journey towards fully embracing something he never knew he needed: by the end of the film, he has finally found his identity and sense of purpose within a community of like-minded souls. And for all this, he has emerged a stronger person. He won't go back--can't go back--to the drab world of barbershop quartets and hopeless blind dates. 

For all its explicit sex scenes and controversial themes, Pillion has both heart and a good deal of humor. Harry Melling gives a lovely performance as Colin. You may have seen him in the 2022 Netflix mystery, The Pale Blue Eye, in which he played a young Edgar Allan Poe. Interestingly, Melling does resemble a young Edgar Allan Poe, which actually brings a great deal of character to his face (as well as a sense of melancholy). In Pillion, on the rare occasions Colin smiles, his whole being lights up, and even the usually inscrutable Ray can't resist him (in his own steely Ray way, of course). Melling charts Colin's evolution over the course of the film with an enormous amount of respect and authenticity. 

Alexander Skarsgard's Ray is icy and subdued on the outside, but he's also, by the end, achingly vulnerable. While Ray is an enigma, Skarsgard gives us nicely controlled glimpses of the emotions underlying Ray's steely exterior. He doesn't want Colin hurt, but he can't fully show his concern even after Colin's mother dies. Following the funeral, when Colin purposely burns his hand on a hot skillet to get some sort of reaction from him, Ray rushes over to hold Colin's hand under cold water. It's a sweet, unexpected move on Ray's part, and Skarsgard effectively underplays Ray's distress when Colin breaks down. By the climax of the film, Ray gives Colin a day off where they can do "normal" things other people do. They laugh, joke around, see a movie, grab a bite at a cafe, and Ray suddenly finds something within himself that rocks his world to the core: his meticulously constructed persona, the very foundation of who he is, starts to crack. He no longer has all the power, so he does the only thing he believes will help him regain control: he leaves, perhaps to rebuild himself and start again. Skarsgard gives an outstandingly nuanced performance throughout the film, and in his final scene, he brings Ray's pain to the forefront, leaving an indelible impression as the emotions playing across his face unleash his long-repressed need.

In supporting roles, Leslie Sharpe delivers a funny, moving performance as Colin's concerned mother, while Douglas Hodge is a sweetheart as his supportive father. In a cameo appearance, Jake Shears, former frontman of the Scissor Sisters, is on hand as Ray's huffy brother, Kevin, although I wish he'd had more to do in the film. 

In his feature film debut, openly gay filmmaker Harry Lighton has humanized his characters with empathy and insight: his sensitivity is on display in every scene. He presents a (BDSM/biker) community--often judged and othered--as nice, unthreatening folks who laugh, love and hurt--like everyone else--and just happen to have inclinations that don't necessarily mesh with generally accepted social norms. In fact, Ray's biker group consists of an actual gay motorcycle club who also served as advisors to Lighton and the actors in maintaining the movie's integrity in accurately portraying this subculture.

Finally, I'll bet you're wondering what a pillion is. FYI: a pillion is the person who rides behind the driver of a motorcycle. I don't need to draw that out for you, surely. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to slip into some tight leather and hop aboard my hog.