For the unaware (myself included), "pillion" is the word for the second seat on a motorcycle, that spot just behind the driver where one can hold on for dear life as the pavement zips by, hopefully enjoying the adventure even as they're not in much control of any of it.
It's a fitting new title for Harry Lighton's adaptation of Adam Mars-Jones' 2020 book Box Hill, both literally and figuratively. In Pillion, Harry Melling (Shoshana, Please Baby Please) is Colin, an unassuming young man in an average British town where he spends his time singing a capella with the barbershop quartet at his local pub. It's the kind of place that attracts all kinds, from his overly supportive mother who, in the film's opening scenes, brings a man to see Colin perform...and subsequently tries to set them up on a date, to the local leather biking gang, a group of men who, at first glance, seem to just be enjoying their unique style and community like anyone else.
Colin is instantly attracted to a quiet man in the group, who we learn is Ray (Alexander Skarsgård, and honestly, who wouldn't be?); in one of the smoothest pick-up moves perhaps captured on screen, Ray leaves Colin a simple note with an invitation and by the next night, they're getting to know each other...intimately. Ray is a man of few words, and Colin's infatuation is overwhelming, so after days of follow-up texts that go unresponded, he nearly leaps out of his skin with excitement when Ray calls to invite him out again.
From there, it's an initiation by fire for Colin—and us—as he finds himself in a consensual yet still confounding dom/sub relationship with Ray, a man who knows what he wants and expects his partner to give it to him, no questions asked. Some familiarity with this community would probably be helpful before going into Pillion, but it's a credit to Lighton that it's not required. We're learning right alongside Colin, and though the experience is often frustrating (why is he putting up with this? do people actually do this?) it's never abusive or uncomfortable and after all, these are two grown men building a relationship both are active, aware participants in.
Melling and Skarsgård could not be better paired here, and both deliver performances that are as different as they are elevated. Melling's Colin is a shy young man from a loving family exploring his life in the gay community and grappling with his mother's terminal illness at home. Skarsgård's Ray is a closed book, giving vague answers to personal questions and fully embodying his power as the dom in the relationship. And yet, there's a warmness to them both, a closeness that grows over time and becomes more and more evident in ways both big and small (Ray agreeing to dinner with Colin's parent's is a particularly phenomenal moment).
In Pillion, Ray jets around the neighborhood on his motorbike and we join Colin on the second seat, the pillion, several times throughout; each time, it's a handing over of control, a sacrifice of autonomy, and a choice he enters into willingly, completely smitten with Ray, the life he leads and the small part he has the chance to play in it. Though the community explored here might not be one we see much in mainstream culture, Lighton's film is nevertheless a beautifully sweet exploration of their dynamics and the sense of place those who join them can find within. And in the end, it's Colin's journey that attaches itself to our hearts, with a coda to this extraordinary yet unusual relationship that leaves us recognizing the universal search for self, both our own voice to articulate our needs and wants and the person (or people) to share our most authentic selves with.
Pillion is now in theaters.
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