Pillion

In its outstanding opening five minutes, Harry Lighton’s Pillion – a darkly comic drama about a young man in a submissive / domineering relationship (based on the book by Adam Mars-Jones) – announces to its audience an audacious form of filmmaking; one which feels inspired by the modern European masters like Claire Denis. The camera flows at high speeds along motorways and country roads, all from the perspective of a motorcycle – and edited in time with the music. We’re then introduced to our protagonist Colin (Harry Melling) singing as one of a barbershop quartet in some pub. If this prologue isn’t idiosyncratic enough, it is a band of leather-clad bikers Colin is performing to. One of whom is the handsome, imposing Ray (Alexander Skarsgård) who provides him with a written location and time. Sidenote: ‘Pillion’ refers to the sitting position behind a biker, apt to be interpreted as the person without the control.

After an intense and explicit public sexual encounter, their relationship evolves into a master-servant dynamic. The power imbalance persists through their sex, their living space, and – importantly – the previously close and caring relationship between Colin and his dying mother (Lesley Sharp) and his slightly oblivious but endearing father (Douglas Hodge) now turns sour. How engaging you find this kind of relationship is very much dependent on the viewer. On a level of manipulation, sex, and who wields the authority at any given moment, the script is undeniably fascinating – enjoyable, though, may not be the word. The intensity of the scenario, however, is often softened somewhat by the film’s humour and ferociously strange, arresting tone.

This is a wonderfully acted piece. While Melling provides a disconcertingly vulnerable – yet deeply compassionate portrait of submission – Skarsgård does well to maintain an utterly cold, robotic, yet – in moments – suddenly animalistic aspect. And then, at the beginning of the third act, when Colin attempts to humanise Melling by persuading him to enjoy life for once, the sudden burst of genuine chemistry and playfulness is honestly joyful. It’s a testament to these great actors that moments which feel so honest can find space in an atmosphere so bizarre.

The ending has left this critic with decidedly mixed feelings; unable, no matter how hard I try, to come to an emotional or tonal resolution. Pillion’s denouement is many things: unsettling, funny, backwards, structurally cyclical. And one can derive multiple interpretations from its – on the surface – cynical undertones. Without going into details, the audience can infer that our protagonist is destined to repeat this kind of relationship over and over.

For a character who is so gentle – and through his gentleness, so likeable – one would like to see him find (as he sees it, at least) more autonomy in his life. Then again, part of the conclusion’s polarising power comes from the fact that he obviously finds both sexual and emotional joy in a subservient role. So, whether Colin finds fulfilment is something which the audience is never provided a clear answer; and is an outcome dependent on inter-dynamics so complex, it almost seems unattainable... almost. The audience is left amused, disturbed and slightly off-balance.

PILLION IS RELEASED IN CINEMAS NATIONWIDE FROM FRIDAY 28th NOVEMBER