Harry Lighton’s Pillion marks a striking feature-length debut for the British filmmaker, adapting Adam Mars-Jones’s 2020 novella Box Hill: A Story of Low Self-Esteem into a modern, emotionally charged exploration of queer desire, power dynamics and self-discovery. Lighton, previously known for his BAFTA-nominated short Wren Boys, brings a confident, nuanced touch to this adaptation, updating the story’s original 1970s setting to present-day suburban London. The result is a film that is as provocative as it is tender, and as funny as it is heartbreaking.
Set in the commuter town of Bromley, Pillion introduces us to Colin (Harry Melling), a shaggy-haired parking attendant who lives with his doting parents, sings in a barbershop quartet with his dad, and is routinely set up on awkward blind dates by his well-meaning mum, Peggy (Lesley Sharp). Colin’s life is quiet, predictable, and steeped in routine – until Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), a leather-clad biker with a commanding presence, interrupts his world with a single, wordless gesture. At a pub gig, Ray butts in just as Colin is about to order a drink, handing him a note with a time and place. What follows is a Christmas Day rendezvous in a back alley that sets the tone for their intense and unconventional relationship.
From this moment, Colin is drawn into Ray’s world: a BDSM dynamic where he becomes Ray’s submissive, fulfilling domestic and sexual duties, sleeping on the floor at the foot of Ray’s bed, and gradually shedding his old identity. Colin shaves his head, joins Ray’s biker gang and begins to live a life dictated by silent commands and texted shopping lists. Yet, despite the stark power imbalance, Lighton’s script never veers into exploitation. Instead, it explores the complexities of consent, devotion and the emotional contradictions that arise when love and control intertwine.
The performances are nothing short of extraordinary. Alexander Skarsgård physically dominates the screen, every squeak of his leathers and echo of his boots amplifying his presence. His portrayal of Ray is steely and enigmatic, yet flickers of vulnerability peek through, making him more than just a cold dominator. Harry Melling, meanwhile, delivers a career-best performance as Colin. His face is a canvas of emotion: confusion, longing, joy and heartbreak all play out with subtlety and depth. Together, Skarsgård and Melling form an unlikely but compelling duo, their chemistry electric and unpredictable.
The supporting cast adds further richness. Lesley Sharp and Douglas Hodge, as Colin’s parents, bring warmth and complexity to their roles. A standout moment is the Sunday dinner scene, where Ray meets Colin’s family. It’s a masterclass in tonal balance. It is tense, hilarious, heartbreaking, and painfully awkward all at once. Sharp’s performance, in particular, is devastating as she confronts the reality of her son’s relationship while battling her own terminal illness.
What truly sets Pillion apart is its lightness of touch. Despite its graphic and emotionally intense subject matter, the film is peppered with laugh-out-loud moments. Lighton’s writing is slick and smart, never veering into melodrama or sentimentality. The characters feel fully fleshed out, their quirks and contradictions embraced rather than ironed out. There’s no cloying saccharine here: just a raw, honest portrayal of a love story that defies convention.
Thematically, Pillion is a triumph. It’s a celebration of queer stories told with passion and unapologetic clarity. It doesn’t seek to sanitise or simplify the complexities of BDSM relationships, nor does it present them as cautionary tales. Instead, it offers a window into a subculture rarely seen on screen, treating its characters with respect and empathy. The film explores identity, agency and the ways in which submission can paradoxically empower. It also interrogates the expectations placed on queer relationships by families, by society and by the individuals within them.
Visually, the film is striking. Lighton’s direction is assured, with a keen eye for contrast—between the muted tones of suburban life and the gleaming chrome of biker culture, between the quiet of Colin’s home and the roar of Ray’s world. The cinematography by Nick Morris and the score by Oliver Coates add texture and mood, enhancing the emotional beats without overwhelming them.
Pillion is a bold and beautiful debut that challenges, entertains and moves in equal measure. It’s a film that carves out space for stories that are messy, complicated and deeply human. Lighton has crafted a love story that is both specific and universal, and in doing so, has announced himself as a vital new voice in British cinema.
Pillion screened as part of the London Film Festival and will be in UK cinemas on November 28.