As the pegasus takes its hero soaring into new heights, the motorcycle blesses its rider with the power to occupy spaces otherwise unattainable by humans, so long as the rider obliges to the bike’s terms of bondage: a helmet, a padded leather bodysuit, gloves and riding boots. In director Harry Lighton’s feature-length debut, “Pillion,” Alexander Skarsgård as Ray and Harry Melling as Colin embark on a journey of knee-quaking, world-gyrating BDSM carnality that brings audiences a love story built on power dynamics and forbidden romance.
Colin performs in a barbershop quartet with his father while his dying mother sets him up on blind dates; Ray tames the grim reaper every day as he embarks on his two-wheeled motor horse every morning. They come from two separate worlds, yet their souls are cut from the same cloth. Their compatibility becomes the driving force of a self-destroying, sub-dom relationship.
The pair do not display typical characteristics of affection — at least not to all other characters in the film. At one point, Colin’s mom, Peggy, played by Lesley Sharp, voices her disapproval; she fails to understand why Ray thinks it is okay to talk to Colin the way he does.
However, the audience understands the love that comes about from Colin’s servitude. In a montage wrestling scene set to Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now,” the couple laughs, smiles and indulges. In another scene, the pair shares a bed at night — atypical to the sleeping arrangement of Colin on the floor and Ray in the bed.
These moments offer a tenderness that tricks the audience into believing happiness may be on the horizon for Colin, yet the camera does not allow viewers comfort. Always angled from below or towards a corner of the room, the camera never provides a complete frame — Colin and Ray rarely share the screen except in the sparse moments of emotional intimacy.
Uneasiness crescendos when a romantically neglected, stiff-backed Colin steals Ray’s crotch rocket and skids out of the driveway, nearly ending his ride against a line of parked cars. A cut to a closeup shows the wind in Colin’s hair. The cuts continue, contrasting the typically shown elongated shots of Colin’s palm on Ray’s bikesuit. Colin rides without his confidence, Ray; the camera has lost its confidence. The two are soul-bound.
Eventually “Pillion” runs out of gas. The insightful visual storytelling and playful performances give way to the tired tropes of queer romance stories. Unfortunately for audiences, Ray’s timidness in intimacy may be Lighton projecting.
The restraint of “Pillion” keeps the audience outside of Ray’s psychology and only offers clues into Colin’s. The relationship remains a mystery, like Ray’s backstory, devoting audience members to rewatches and discussions about misconstruing love with sex and happiness. Through a heartwarming script and seductive visual techniques, Lighton delivers a bittersweet romance for the ages.
“Pillion” is playing at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema Park North, located at 618 NW Loop 410.
