Pillions and Passengers

Any fears that Gen Z is agnostic to onscreen eroticism are dismissed fairly early on within Pillion due to one of the more graphic oral sex scenes in recent memory. Pillion might not be aimed at the broadest of audiences, but it's from a relatively young director in Harry Lighton, the 33-year-old filmmaker who picked up the Cannes Film Festival’s Best Screenplay prize and three BAFTA nominations for his debut feature. That Pillion is released at a time when conversations about explicitly gay content could’ve been intensified by Ted Sarandos’ Senate hearing testimony is a coincidence that could also misinterpret what the film’s message is.

Based on the 2020 novel Box Hill by Adam Mars-Jones, Pillion is about the shy parking enforcement officer Colin (Harry Melling), who’s so timid that his parents Pete (Douglas Hodge) and Peggy (Lesley Sharp) have tried to set him up on a date during Christmas Eve. Although Colin would describe himself as thoughtful and committed, evidenced by his passion for singing in a barbershop quartet, he wouldn’t know how to follow up on anyone's passing interest in him. His first interaction with the enigmatic biker Ray (Alexander Skarsgård) is concluded on the aforementioned moment of intimacy, but it's not something that Colin has expected will continue or become anything more. A surprise text from Ray months later is interpreted by Colin to be an invitation, when in actuality it's a command.

Those who are morally opposed to the suggestion of a BDSM relationship may have already turned away from Pillion by this point, but there’s a curiosity as to what a lowly character like Colin might do within such an imbalanced dynamic. Colin and Ray are very different, a fact emphasized by the vast difference within the sizes of their respective pet dogs (which may be a thinly-veiled joke). Colin not only lives with his parents, but has never expected that he’d be recognized or even remembered; Ray may have realized that Colin’s naturally submissive, but he doesn’t anticipate the extent to which he’d follow commands.

What Pillion is morphed into is a character study that’s interrogative, and often sad; even if the relationship between Colin and Ray has involved playing roles, there’s not any fantasy to it. When Ray teaches Colin how to wrestle, it's not just a means of sexual gratification because he intends to scuffle; Colin may have initially cooked and cleaned for Ray to satisfy his partner, but he’s befuddled to find that it's no longer a burden. The stark differences within their personalities can be summarized by their chosen professions; Ray has a vehicle that’s reliant on personal maintenance and self-control, and Colin has a job where it's prudent to attract as little attention as possible.

The rules between Ray and Colin are never explicitly stated. Although Ray’s intimidating presence would imply he’s never thought that Colin would refuse him, he’s taken aback that the younger man is so immune to being manipulated. Colin’s seemingly curious, or at least brave enough, to do anything that Ray says, even if it's degrading. However, Lighton has gone out of his way to indicate that what Ray does shouldn’t be considered abuse; there’s no point in which Colin’s consent is violated, and Ray never subjects him to any sort of public humiliation. The wounds that Colin carries are emotional, not physical.

It’s impressive that a filmmaker with as little experience as Lighton has such a tight control on what to show, and more critically what should be left to the imagination. Even the moments of sexual contact that are satisfying to the characters aren’t framed in a way that’s appeasing to the audience, and there are instances in which the lines between detachment and friction are blurred. The most difficult scenes in Pillion involve Colin’s parents, whose intrusions within their son’s life are done out of concern, and not bigotry. It's refreshing for Colin’s mother in Pillion to only raise an objection to Ray’s involvement with her son when she’s fearful that he’s not being treated respectfully.

Lighton’s filmmaking has a visual poetry that’s at odds with the terse, abrasive progression of scenes. Title cards don’t need to be used to mark the passage of time, and a close-up shot of either of the actors’ faces can say more than a declarative monologue. It’s not only an indication of Lighton’s remarkable confidence as a first-time feature director, but a testament to the talent of the two stars. Melling, initially a child actor of the Harry Potter franchise, is cast in his first lead role after years of playing character parts for James Gray, Michael Winterbottom, and the Coen brothers. Skarsgård has further solidified that his comedic strengths are just as attuned as his dramatic skills; Pillion debuted the same week as The Moment, another A24 film, in which he plays an eccentric, narcissistic documentary filmmaker who’s Ray’s polar opposite.

The word “pillion” emerged in the United Kingdom after the Battle of Dunkirk, which saw a surge in the use of motorcycles, and is defined as the passenger seat of the vehicle. Legally, it’s forbidden to “ride pillion” if the machine in question is not designed to sustain two people. Pillion is about that distinction, because there’s no way for two drivers to be in sync with each other when one is designated to be the passenger.