Skarsgård’s Bold Turn inPillionSparks Deeper Questions About Power and Identity

Skarsgård’s Bold Turn inPillionSparks Deeper Questions About Power and Identity

Skarsgård’s Bold Turn inPillionSparks Deeper Questions About Power and Identity

If you’ve been looking for a film that dives head-first into desire, identity, and the messy depths of human connection, Pillion deserves a spot at the very top of your list. This is Harry Lighton’s debut feature, and it immediately signals that he’s not afraid to take risks. The film pairs Harry Melling as Colin, a quiet suburban guy whose life feels stuck on repeat, with Alexander Skarsgård as Ray, a mysterious biker whose presence alone feels like a dare. From the moment these two meet, a shift in their emotional and erotic landscapes is quietly set in motion.

What begins as a rough, almost anonymous alleyway encounter is quickly transformed into something far more intense. A full 24/7 BDSM relationship develops—one that’s built on ritual, structure and a consensual exchange of power. The movie leans into the idea of “total power exchange,” where the submissive partner offers obedience and service not just during intimate scenes, but throughout daily life. Instead of treating this as shock value, Lighton uses the dynamic to explore masculinity, vulnerability, and the many ways people negotiate identity through desire.

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The film doesn’t shy away from eroticism; instead, it uses it to push Colin’s emotional arc forward. We watch him move from discomfort to curiosity, and eventually into a sense of unexpected fulfillment. One of the film’s most talked-about scenes involves submissive partners lined up in the forest on picnic tables—raw, unsettling, and strangely intimate. It’s in sequences like this that the title Pillion becomes vividly clear. Someone always leads, someone always rides behind, and that balance becomes the heart of the story.

Skarsgård’s Ray is portrayed as a man who avoids emotional vulnerability at all costs. For him, dominance provides structure—the kind that allows him to maintain distance, control, and a carefully curated version of masculinity. Psychology research even suggests that the predictability of dominance roles can feel safer for people who struggle with emotional closeness, which the film hints at without overexplaining.

On the other side of the dynamic, Colin discovers that his submissiveness doesn’t make him weaker; it becomes a source of strength. Through discipline, patience, and emotional honesty, he begins to uncover a version of himself that feels more authentic than the life he started with. Eventually, he questions the arrangement and asks Ray for a “day off,” a moment that feels like a spark of self-assertion—and a test of whether Ray can open up beyond his role as “master.”

By the time the credits roll, Pillion has become much more than a queer BDSM rom-com. It’s a layered, emotionally intelligent story that challenges assumptions about masculinity, power, and what it means to truly see yourself. Skarsgård and Melling’s performances keep the film both grounded and electric, making it a story that lingers long after the final scene.

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