Pillion

When barbershop quartet crooner “Colin” (Harry Melling) ends up paying for some crisps in the pub for a biker he doesn’t even know, he immediately becomes smitten. This is despite the fact that the white-leather clad “Ray” (Alexander Skarsgård) barely gave him a second glance, though he did give him a Christmas card with a phone number. “Colin” can hardly contain himself and agrees to “take the dog for a walk” on Christmas Day where we get the gist of just how any relationship between these two men is going to pan out. Indeed, for the remainder of this film we see something of a combination of adoration, affection, obedience and maybe even love as “Colin” finds himself drawn into a biking community with a difference. The challenge for him - and maybe even for “Ray”, too - is to what extent he can keep within the rigid boundaries of an arrangement that teases and enthralls at the start, but soon begins to have him question how sustainable this degree of unquestioning loyalty and subservience can be as an emotional connection is undoubtedly beginning to form. Is that ever likely to be reciprocated? Would he truly want it to be? Melling holds this really quite well here but though his co-star has the best torso “V” since Matt Camp in “Getting Go” (2013), his isn’t really that interesting or developed a role. It’s all about “Colin” and a coming of age story that every parent would dread - exemplified really entertainingly here in one scene by his terminally ill mum (Lesley Sharp) who says aloud what many of us watching might be thinking about “Ray” and the dynamic of a master servant rapport involving our child. It’s a bit erratically paced and not sexually graphic in the least, really, but is still quite a sexy story that smoulders well when the two are on screen together and it might just make folks appreciate their days off more in future.

There’s a big difference between celebrating an alternative lifestyle and giving license to an abusive relationship, but, sadly, the debut feature from writer-director Harry Lighton doesn’t seem to know the difference. This sexually explicit “romance” (a term I use with measured reservation) follows the experience of Colin (Harry Melling), a shy gay adult who still lives with his parents and has trouble getting dates, after he meets Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), an enigmatic, uber-masculine biker/leatherman with a chiseled physique who looks like he’s just stepped out of the hottest gay porno imaginable. But their relationship comes with many strings: specifically, Ray is a “dom” who rigidly dictates every aspect of the life of his new “sub.” Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with dynamics like this in a gay male relationship (or any other type of relationship, for that matter), as we all have our own particular proclivities. However, when relations between partners cross certain lines, matters can become decidedly and disturbingly questionable. Ray treats Colin like his slave (again, not an unheard-of dynamic in relationships like this), but, as circumstances turn emotionally and then physically abusive, that’s when this partnership takes a troubling turn in the wrong direction. And what’s most distressing about this film is that it tacitly conveys the impression that such behavior is perfectly acceptable in dominant/submissive relationships, that it simply (and unapologetically) comes with the territory. However, as a member of the LGBTQ+ community myself, this stance takes things a step too far for me, even if Colin is willing to go along with such potentially damaging and humiliating treatment. Such behavior would never be condoned in other relationships, so why should it be considered acceptable here (especially since the film seems to regard it as “normal,” even celebrated)? This sends the wrong message in my opinion, especially since so many individuals in the LGBTQ+ community already have issues with low self-esteem stemming from repeated ridicule and demeaning abuse from others (often just by virtue of being gay), let alone at the hands of someone from our own “family.” The attitude taken here is thus tantamount to pouring gasoline onto an already-raging fire, and I find that wholly inappropriate, not to mention self-defeating in a community where bolstering our self-worth should be a priority. The effect of this, regrettably, is the reinforcement and perpetuation of negative gay stereotypes coming at a time when the community is already under heightened scrutiny and undue criticism, an outcome that’s being fostered here by those who can least afford to see such treatment championed (even if allegedly unwittingly). While there is admittedly some merit to the story’s message about the value of self-acceptance (i.e., Colin’s willingness to be himself in recognizing and accepting his avowed preference for being a submissive), there’s a difference between that and encouraging someone to embrace anything that might go along with it, including allowing oneself to be freely and willingly subjected to acts of abuse. Despite these glaring faults, the film has somehow managed to secure its fair share of advocates, as evidenced, for example, by its three BAFTA Award nominations and five Cannes Film Festival nods (including two wins). Nevertheless, “Pillion,” in my view, carries these notions to an extreme and sends the wrong message, particularly toward those who might be too naïve, inexperienced or impressionable to realize what they could be getting themselves into until it’s too late. To me, that’s just plain wrong, and it’s prompted my extreme dislike of this release, despite what some of my LGBTQ+ community peers might believe. Indeed, harmless role playing and free-wheeling kinkiness are one thing, but hurtful, damaging, psychologically manipulative abuse is something else entirely. And, unfortunately, this film doesn’t make enough of a distinction between the two.