In his feature-length directorial debut, Harry Lighton presents a daring and emotionally charged narrative with Pillion, a contemporary reinterpretation of Adam Mars-Jones’ 2020 novel Box Hill. Set in modern Britain, the film chronicles the journey of a reserved gay man whose entrance into adulthood is unexpectedly ignited by a mysterious motorcyclist. What starts as a seemingly playful story of sexual discovery gradually transforms into a profound examination of power, consent, and emotional fragility, revolving around a dominant-submissive dynamic that challenges ethical limits.
Pillion, named after the back seat of a motorcycle, explores themes of companionship alongside control. The narrative introduces Colin (Harry Melling), an awkward parking attendant, and Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), the intriguing head of a motorcycle gang. Their lives intersect in a serendipitous meeting that ignites a thrilling yet unsettling dynamic. Colin, nudged into a blind date by his well-intentioned parents, catches a glimpse of Ray from the backseat of his family vehicle — a fleeting moment that sparks an obsession.
Following an awkward barbershop quartet performance, Colin again spots Ray from across the pub. Their exchange is brief yet electric: Ray treats Colin to snacks and leaves him a note proposing a rendezvous the following day. What ensues is a whirlwind of ambiguous signals and conflicting expectations. Colin, naive and longing for closeness, is swiftly drawn into Ray’s existence — a realm governed by unspoken rules and emotional detachment.
Ray’s concept of intimacy is both contractual and domineering. He anticipates Colin to tidy his space, prepare meals for him, and sleep on the floor alongside his dog. Their sexual interactions are tinged with humiliation and dominance, which Colin initially struggles to comprehend but begins to crave. The film openly addresses the discomfort embedded in this dynamic, utilizing it to question the essence of consent and desire.
Amid the intensity of their connection, Pillion incorporates moments of humor. Colin’s efforts to present Ray to his parents — featuring a hilariously awkward dinner invite — are both heartfelt and absurd. These scenes, played with deadpan sincerity by Melling, showcase the film’s tonal versatility. Lighton skillfully harmonizes comedy and drama, employing each to heighten the emotional stakes rather than diminish them.
The supporting cast, which includes actual members of the leather subculture, lends authenticity and warmth. While Ray remains emotionally detached, his motorcycle community welcomes Colin, providing a sense of belonging he has never experienced. Nonetheless, Ray’s reluctance to open up — even regarding his profession — vexes Colin, who longs for a more profound bond. Their emotional tug-of-war becomes the film’s core tension: how much will Colin tolerate to feel desired, and how far can Ray stretch before pushing him entirely away?
Pillion is a nuanced balancing act, both thematically and tonally. It delves into how relationships can warp when communication falters, particularly when one partner lacks experience while the other remains emotionally closed off. However, it refrains from judging its characters’ yearnings. Rather, it approaches their journey with empathy, even as it explores the darker aspects of intimacy.
Melling and Skarsgård give career-defining performances. Melling, recognized for his role as Dudley Dursley in the Harry Potter series, infuses Colin with a quiet intensity. His depiction of social anxiety and emotional restraint is both poignant and highly relatable. He captures the intricacies of a man unfolding his identity through another’s expectations — at times painfully, other times joyfully.
Skarsgård, on the other hand, is captivating as Ray. His commanding physicality is matched by the emotional enigma that renders the character so intriguing. He fluidly shifts between warmth and detachment, leaving both Colin and the audience uncertain. Lighton’s direction accentuates this ambiguity, often framing Ray in lingering shots that magnify both his magnetism and elusiveness.
The film’s visual aesthetics enhance its emotional themes. Slow-motion segments and soft lighting emphasize moments of change, especially as Colin begins to assert his own identity. These scenes are not merely visually appealing — they resonate emotionally, encapsulating the vulnerability and empowerment associated with self-discovery.
Pillion avoids providing easy resolutions. It resists the temptation to tie up its characters’ conflicts neatly, opting instead to embrace the complexities of queer longing and emotional reliance. The film’s strength lies in its courage to linger in discomfort, investigating the entanglement of love, lust, and control.
Describing the performances as “brave” would be an understatement — not due to nudity or queerness, but because of the raw emotional authenticity both actors bring to their characters. Together, Melling and Skarsgård forge a dynamic that is as tumultuous as it is fascinating, rendering Pillion one of the most emotionally profound and engaging films of the year.
Debuting at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, Pillion is set for release later that same year. It signifies a remarkable debut for Lighton and a bold new phase for its lead performers.