A pillion is a seat for a passenger behind a motorcyclist. This simple, not-overly-familiar word captures the whole experience of Colin (Harry Melling) in Harry Lighton’s feature directorial debut adapted from the 2020 novel Box Hill by Adam Mars-Jones. In Pillion, Colin is shy, still living at home with his parents. He spends his days enforcing parking regulations and nights singing in a barbershop quartet. Performing in such a retro ensemble, pinstripes, boaters, and all, is a special kind of buttoned-up persona; with his introverted mild manners, it seems like Colin has a ways to go before fully coming out of his shell. One evening, when performing at his local pub, the handsome biker Ray (Alexander Skarsgård) slips him a note. There is an immediate flash of attraction. They meet on Christmas Day for oral sex in a back alley – not a word exchanged between them. Ray then disappears for months, despite Colin’s text. When he returns, he asks Colin to be his submissive – sleeping on the floor, cooking his meals, and shaving his head. Colin naively accepts. Whether or not it is the ride he expected proves the film’s dramatic propulsion.
Pillion combines moments of shock and aggression, laid out within a BDSM framework in the leather biker scene, with scenes of tenderness, awkwardness, and self-discovery. There are lots of sex scenes, often unconventional, intense, or carrying another element of risk. That said, while these are a vital part of the milieu, they are never the focus. Instead, Colin’s and Ray’s emotions, negotiating and navigating their dynamic, take centre stage.
Melling – all big eyes and quiet acquiescence, looking equally endearingly ill at ease with floppy hair in a pinstripe suit and a buzzcut in a dog collar – provides the film’s emotional core. Colin is young, inexperienced, and swept off his feet, but he never becomes passive even as he embraces the actions and signifiers of a submissive. Melling clearly conveys the difference in what Colin desires – or thinks he desires – with where his desires and comforts lie, and watching the inner discoveries, boundary pushing (often positive, sometimes frightening) and ensuing mismatch proves Pillion’s strongest feature. This relationship might be what he wants, but is it what makes him happy?
Alexander Skarsgård brings out the flashes of consternation, even doubt, as Ray navigates his attraction to and affection for Colin with his kink. But there is genuine romance and care in his gazes and actions, even as their desires begin to grow apart once the initial infatuation fades and the characters must face whether they are truly meant to be together. In this, Lighton’s script, Melling’s and Skarsgård’s performances, and Nick Morris’ cinematography never turn towards the mocking; Colin’s journey, and Ray’s own that runs mysteriously parallel, are both valuable even in their mistakes and miscalculations.
In the supporting cast, Lesley Sharp and Douglas Hodge are charming as Colin’s parents Peggy and Pete, both thrilled their son has found a relationship but cautious and overwhelmed by the speed and seeming extremity at which it progresses (a scene where they see Colin off on the back of Ray’s motorcycle – insisting he wears a helmet and is sensible going out late at night – is straight out of a sitcom). Contrasting their quintessentially British manners and mores with the exciting, danger-coded world of bikes and BDSM provides delightful levity.
This sly juxtaposition elevates Pillion as a coming-of-age tale. While never losing the intensity of Colin and Ray’s relationship, nor unduly undercutting them with the “I told you so” views of the worldly wise, Lighton’s work knows that life-changing romances and new experiences are as fraught with mistakes and discomfort as they are opportunities for the sublime.
Pillion’s mastery, therefore, is in demonstrating that unwise, ill-matched love affairs are not necessarily wrong or bad. These vital flashes of passion and self-discovery are steps along the path of life. It is tempting to call these teachable moments, but the film is too smart, savvy, and downright fun to pass off Colin’s development as merely educational. Sex scenes aside, this is an adult film in the best sense of the word: astute, wise, and infinitely fond of its characters and their foibles.
On a similar note, it would be tempting to call Ray’s treatment of Colin unhealthy at best, abusive at worse; after all, the dominant is far more experienced in this BDSM relationship than his submissive is in this case, and to the inexperienced Colin and (presumably many inexperienced) viewers, his demands (within boundaries and rules) feel extreme. But this too sells short the film’s emotional maturity and its characters’ fully-rounded motivations. There is heartache and hurt as Colin and Ray figure out what works for them physically and spiritually, but Pillion never suggests either is the villain. Loving, living with, and sharing yourself with people comes with pain, and to lose that would be to close one’s self off to the world.
The film’s end is not hard to guess; at its heart, Pillion is a quotidian, familiar tale of learning through love, albeit one centred around an unconventional romance. Whatever predictability is here, however, it is still roundly satisfying. The course of true love – or new kinks – never did run smooth, but each new experience adds to the richness of life. Onwards and upwards to new adventures.
Pillion recently played at the London Film Festival. It will be in theaters on November 28, 2025.
Learn more about the film at the IMDB site for the title.
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