Art is, of course, subjective, and we all respond to a movie in our own unique way, so it’s not surprising that the movie Pillion—billed as a “romantic dramedy” starring the always riveting Alexander Skarsgard—became the subject of debate in BDSM circles. But rarely has a movie been more of an ink blot test of how practitioners perceive D/s relationships, or at least how they wish them to be portrayed on film.
The coming-of-age story centers on Colin, played by a hungry-eyed Henry Melling, who stumbles into Ray, a sadistic Dominant he would never have guessed he’d want. But then what sub, new to kink or not, wouldn’t be happy to drop to his knees and open his mouth before the towering, icy-eyed Skarsgard? Although Ray treats him carelessly, abominably, Colin is thrilled in a way that jolts him awake and has him crawling after Ray, hoping for more.
Any submissive who has been turned on by humiliation will understand that Colin is not faking his thrill, even when he is thrown off balance by the cruelty in it. There is nothing a hardcore sub loves more than to be thrown off balance, or to be ridden around on the back of his Dom’s motorcycle like an object safe in the possession of its owner. (Refreshingly, Colin does not wonder aloud what is “wrong” with him for getting off on what he gets off on.) Indeed, Colin seems to be satisfied by Ray’s seeming indifference to his suffering, to the point Colin takes Ray home to meet his disparaging mother. In a striking dining room scene, the mom blasts Ray for being a “creep,” but Ray simply, and heroically, shrugs off her ignorance. Ray and Colin clearly get each other, and for kink-aware viewers, Colin’s initial pleasure in the relationship, unfolding in the context of a gang of queer bikers and their gritty ass-pounding power games, is electrifying to watch.
Yet, as Colin falls in love with his emotionally distant Dom, he craves to be closer to him. He starts asking for new considerations, such as to be given “one day off each week” to exist as Ray’s equal. When Ray brushes off that request, Colin starts acting out (a.k.a. “bratting”). Colin overtly violates their D/s agreement, however unspoken it was, but rather than punish him for it, Ray surprisingly gives in to Colin’s desire for a day without their power dynamic and lets Colin run the show. While Colin is cautiously pleased, Ray ultimately cannot abide the change and ends the relationship. But this does not devastate Colin, who has now figured out who he is and what he wants. He starts shopping for a new Dom, one that will allow him to have that one day a week of equal power.
All’s well that ends well, right? Not for many viewers. Some came away from the movie believing they had just watched “a toxic love story” about an abusive Dom who was so emotionally stunted that he couldn’t tolerate a little negotiation about boundaries. Others cheered the rebellious submissive for standing his ground and insisting his needs be met. As one viewer moved by Colin’s journey of self-discovery put it, “For once, it wasn’t about the tall, handsome white guy getting what he wanted, it was about what someone else wanted.”
On the flip side, some felt sympathetic to a Dom who opted out when his sub suddenly tossed aside their well-established rules and tried to create a different kind of dynamic. Ray had been brutally honest in what he had to offer, and it had been exactly what Colin wanted. The irony was that it was only when Ray began showing flickering signs that he might truly care about his sub that Colin realized he wanted more of that care. But rather than give the situation, and his Dom, time to evolve, he melodramatically forced the issue. Actual Dominants sitting in the audience cannot be blamed for thinking, “No, wrong, that’s not how it works;” or, for wanting to give Colin a melodramatic kick to his balls.
However, the most common criticism seemed to be that the relationship as portrayed wasn’t “realistic” BDSM because it failed to depict negotiation and overt consent between partners. The movie, according to that view, made kink seem inherently abusive to innocents who don’t know any better. As one Reddit poster complained, “This is why D/s dynamics end up getting mocked in mainstream media … [and] why audiences are left with a skewed understanding of what BDSM actually is.”
This is always a frustrating accusation, as if all creative depictions of kink are obligated to include a primer on how to conduct a BDSM relationship or otherwise do the cultural work of de-stigmatizing kink. That is exactly how the sublime first season of the TV series Bonding led to a failed and dreary second season; the show’s creators responded to criticism from BDSM experts about how to “responsibly” depict kink; and, in the process, they drained the life out of it.
A movie true to its characters shouldn’t have to carry an educational burden, and thankfully Harry Lighton, the director of Pillion, didn’t try. He allowed his fearless actors to inhabit the hard-edged desires of their characters without imposing political correctness on them. In the process, he created one of the more realistic depictions of what drives kinky folk to enter such subversive relationships, as well as how those relationships can fall apart. Watching, I was enthralled until the bittersweet end.
