As Colin (Harry Melling) meets Ray (Alexander Skarsgard) for a Christmas Day rendezvous, they make it clear what is about to go down in the alleyway of an empty high street. The two tie up their dogs outside of a Christmas tree display: Colin’s dachshund, whose tiny legs struggled to keep pace with its owner’s long strides, and Ray’s formidable rottweiler. Their meeting is graphic, clumsy, and utterly unsexy for both, until Ray commands Colin to get on his knees and lick his boot. So begins Harry Lighton’s queer BDSM romcom PILLION. Don’t expect anyone to go running through an airport, Richard Curtis style; this is no conventional rom-com and no conventional relationship.

Lighton’s PILLION, based on the 2020 novel ‘Box Hill’, is a skilled debut. Lighton deftly balances humour, tenderness and sexiness all while delivering a wholly unique coming-of-age story. Melling’s Colin is an awkward parking monitor who moonlights as a member of a barbershop quartet. He soon becomes the sub to biker Ray’s dom, learning about himself and his boundaries in the process. The title, PILLION, refers to the passenger seat of a motorbike; the position Colin symbolically adopts on his journey with Ray, as he fumbles with the complex rules of this new relationship. Melling’s performance stands out, conveying so much in stolen glances and his puppy dog eyes, taking us along with him. Where Melling is gawky and gangly, Skarsgard is stoic, looking spectacularly out of place in mundane Bromley.

Ray remains an enigmatic figure; we never learn his occupation (Colin’s mother frets that he could be a hairdresser or a serial killer for all they know), and we never find out the history behind the mysterious women’s names tattooed on his chest. His flat is stark and grey, littered with empty cans of Stella Artois that he tasks Colin with cleaning up. It also surprisingly harbours a piano, complete with sheet music. While it would be tempting to make Ray an antagonistic figure, Skarsgard injects enough empathy that, like Colin, we too want to hold on until the last. Like in Steven Shainberg’s SECRETARY, submission becomes a gateway for self-discovery, if not empowerment.

The sex scenes are graphic, but the shock value is played delicately. Whilst the naked wrestling to Tiffany’s ‘I Think We’re Alone Now’ is ironically self-aware, the film’s heart and sensuality are never in doubt. Ray’s gang of leather-clad bikers are portrayed as a loving, accepting community. A highlight of the film is the group’s birthday outing to a lake. The joyful freedom is palpable, watching dog-masked and latex-clad bikers cavort in nature: synthetic latex at home in the leafy green woods. Lighton is a perceptive director; Colin and Ray’s relationship is not romanticised, but it isn’t demonised either. Shame does not exist here. Neither does glamour.

The film is beautifully shot, most evident when Colin and Ray are biking. Motorways are transformed into liberating, liminal spaces. The glow of streetlamps rushing past is almost magical. It is in this space where domestic, tender touch is permitted outside the strict rules of their sub-dom relationship.

Awkward and endearing, it is a stunningly impressive debut. PILLION gives the rom-com the subversive, sexy spin it was in dire need of.