I watched Babygirl over Christmas break this past year while I was home in San Diego. None of my family wanted to go with me, which wasn’t a shock, given that the film was largely marketed as an erotic thriller, something that wasn’t designed for a comforting family watch. Babygirl is a film that I liked a lot in the moment. The needle drops were fun and Nicole Kidman gives a memorable performance at its center. But as I thought more about it, particularly about its marketing and this idea that it is a wildly sexual film, my gripes began to grow. Babygirl is sexy, yes, and definitely illicit, but it is not a very sexual movie. Moreover, it does not have great character development. Kidman’s Romy concludes the film in the same place she started, essentially: in control at her job and sexually dissatisfied with her husband.
Pillion answers almost all of the frustrations I had with Babygirl in a sleek, funny, heartfelt, and deeply horny package. It moves with a swagger and whimsy present only in the best rom-coms, while also sharing with its audience an often-underrepresented aspect of queer culture: kink. Coming from first-time director Harry Lighton, the film does not feel amateur in any way. It is assured in its vision, confident in its depiction of dominant-submissive relations and queer biker clubs.
The task of Pillion is, in some ways, easier than Babygirl’s. We do not have to suspend our disbelief that Nicole Kidman has a deep desire to be dominated by a younger man, or that Antonio Banderas is sexually dissatisfying. Harry Melling’s Colin is, in contrast to Kidman, exactly what a stereotype of a submissive gay man would be: soft spoken, buttoned up, overly talkative when he’s nervous. Equally fitting as the dominant Ray is Alexander Skarsgård, a man with a penchant for sexually adventurous roles and experimentation (cast your mind back to his red-carpet appearance for the premiere of Brandon Cronenberg’s Infinity Pool, for example).
Beyond comparisons to other recent sex-marketed films, though, Pillion stands on its own as a queer journey of acceptance. Colin begins the film lonely, still living with his doting parents who do everything in their power to make him comfortable. Yet the only thing that makes him comfortable is the thing that his parents, particularly his mother, are uncomfortable with: Ray. Ray provides Colin with a sense of identity and a community, two things that are vital to being alive. Colin’s community and identity just happen to come with chains and harnesses.
The question of love in Colin and Ray’s relationship is eventually what breaks them. Colin loves Ray. Ray knows this. Colin knows Ray knows, and knows Ray cannot love him back. Not in a repressed, internalized homophobia way, as a lesser film may frame it, but in a “that’s not what I want out of this” way. Their relationship is not without care—one of the most sexually explicit scenes occurs on Colin’s birthday, in which Ray finally gives him something he has been wanting—but love is not in the cards for the two men. The question Colin asks himself, and that Lighton’s film asks the audience, is whether or not this is enough.
All of this sounds somewhat hopeless and charmless on paper. But the best parts of Pillion come in its in-between moments, moments that flesh out how the world Ray inhabits operates. While the discomfort and abnormality of the sex scenes are not played for laughs, the film is quite funny. Skarsgård and Melling make for an odd couple, a fact not unremarked upon by their fellow bikers, but their rapport with each other brings a welcome bit of levity to the intensity of the motorcycles and leather gear. The cinematography and editing are also highlights, never lingering on a scene or a shot for too long. Montages of motorcycles with whizzing lights and revving engines can border on cliché, and on occasions, Pillion drifts there. But each drive has a different effect on Colin and the audience alike: first the terror, then the thrill, then the confidence, then the isolation.
Pillion concludes on a hopeful note, one that sends its characters off to new and kinky adventures. Important for making the ending work, and most of the film, is Melling performance as Colin. He goes through both a physical and emotional transformation, from reserved and diminutive to confident in his reservedness and diminutiveness. It is a subtle distinction that Melling carries off extremely well, making the final beats of the film earned and hopeful, instead of a backslide (looking at you, Babygirl). Skarsgård is also strong here; though not entirely unexpected work from him, he knows when to be cold and when to warm Ray up. Supporting characters get some standout moments, particularly Lesley Sharp as Colin’s mother, but Melling and Skarsgård are the clear main event.
I have chosen to gloss over the graphicness of the sex in Pillion, but don’t be mistaken. It borders between R and NC-17 in some places, but the nudity and sex never feel gratuitous or voyeuristic. In fact, the actual scenes of sex are the parts of the film that I found to be the least sexy. They work, and they’re there to satisfy a particular kind of audience member, but the sexiest moments are the power imbalances and the tension, the push and pull between Colin and Ray that makes their relationship work.
I would love to recommend Pillion to anyone, and though of course I can’t, I do think that audiences should keep an open mind with this one. I’m reminded of a moment on The Late Late Show, when Anne Hathaway said that her favorite romantic comedy was David Fincher’s Gone Girl, a remark that left the audience in stunned silence. In a few years, when The Late Late Show is hosted by the Rizzler or something, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear someone talk about Pillion as an underrated romcom. It is endlessly watchable and engaging, with enough titillation to break the mold from other gay romcoms of late. I’m hoping that, unlike Babygirl, A24 does not bungle the release of this film, and gives it a real chance to make some money. At the very least, it will be a cult favorite, circulating among forums of “best gay movies you’ve never heard of.” May gay guys everywhere click on it hoping to see Skarsgård hog and come away feeling a little bit more open minded.