Review: Pillion (2025)
- Jon Dickinson
- Dec 1, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Dec 19, 2025
If you have seen the marketing for Harry Lighton’s new film, Pillion, you might think you’re going to watch a queer romance draped in the aesthetics of the leather BDSM scene. On the surface, it looks like a love story about power exchange. But I argue viewing Pillion as a romance is a misreading of the text. It wasn’t a love story. It was a brutal study on the transaction of self-worth and what happens when you trade your autonomy for crumbs of attention.
What is it about?
The film follows Colin, a lonely parking attendant who seems to be waiting for his life to start. When he meets Ray, he doesn’t just meet a partner; he meets a structure. Ray offers him a place in his world, but that place is strictly defined. Colin becomes the “pillion”—the passenger on the bike. He doesn’t steer, he doesn’t apply the brake, and he certainly doesn’t choose the destination.
The metaphor is devastatingly effective. It captures the specific paralysis of a relationship where one person holds all the cards.
What works
Before digging into the darker nature of the film, credit must be given where it is due.
Harry Melling is superb. He inhabits Colin with a posture of permanent apology; he doesn’t need dialogue to tell you he is traumatised; you can see it in the slope of his shoulders. Opposite him, Alexander Skarsgård plays Ray not as a villain, but as a void. He is an object of desire who refuses to be a person—a brick wall that Colin keeps throwing himself against no matter how many red flags are raised.
Surprisingly, the film is very funny. Lighton understands that relentless misery is boring, so he injects moments of dry, British awkwardness that allow the audience to breathe. Every chuckle it raised served as a release valve for the tension, making the eventual return to silence feel even heavier.
My concerns
Whilst watching the film, I found myself grappling with a major concern. While the film is visually stunning, I argue it creates a dangerous blur between “kink” and “emotional neglect.” For a narrative explicitly centred around BDSM, there is a glaring omission: Wellbeing.
In a healthy, realistic dynamic—even one focused on total service—there are frameworks. There are negotiations, safewords, and aftercare. Pillion bypasses all of this. We see Ray using silence as a weapon to keep Colin unsure of his reality. For example, there is a sequence on Christmas Day where Colin is simply ignored—erased from the room until Ray decides he is useful.
The film presents this as part of the “game,” but without the context of negotiation, it looks less like dominance and more like emotional abuse. The danger of this is that Pillion risks glamorising these behaviours rather than identifying them as the hazards they are. It sells the fantasy that if you just wait long enough in the passenger seat, the driver will eventually turn around and love you.
The verdict
Pillion is a complex, difficult watch. It is a psychological drama that perfectly walks a tightrope between its dark and lighter side. I urge people to go see it even if just for the acting and surprising wit. But go with your eyes open. Do not go expecting a love story about a leather daddy saving a lonely boy. Expect a reality check about the cost of sitting in the back seat of your own life.
Rating: 4/5 Stars
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