Warning: This post discusses a very adult topic. While I have made an effort to keep this discussion SFW, I cannot make any guarantees for any subsequent research you will do.
I pride myself on having a willingness to explore new things. But when I test my limits against unconventional films, I end up finding boundaries I didn’t know I had. Pillion Is exactly that kind of film. But I have to give it a little bit of credit. It tried to show me a world that I don’t have much familiarity with. Mind you, I emphasize the word “tried” because in the end I think it completely failed.
Pillion is a gay romance film. That wouldn’t be especially remarkable in and of itself. But there’s a twist. It’s all about BDSM. And not just Shibari or Ball Gags. Oh no. This film does its best delve deep into the day-to-day existence that such a relationship entails.
Wikipedia defines BDSM as follows:
BDSM is a variety of often erotic practices or roleplaying involving bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism, and other related interpersonal dynamics.[1]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BDSM
A full explanation of the subculture goes slightly beyond the point of this movie review. The most typical configuration of a BDSM relationship is that you have two distinct roles, a Dom and a Sub. In simplest terms, the Dom issues orders, and is, well, dominant. Whereas the Sub or “submissive” receives them. And while it often involves some form of violence, it does not always.
I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, but I have dated enough people who are intimately familiar with the scene that Pillion was not my first rodeo.
BDSM in Hollywood is typically handled one of two ways. Either it’s played off for laughs or it is used as a quick stand-in for moral depravity. Pillion instead opts for realism. It does not pretend to be a documentary. But it does offer a glimpse into a world which I think very few people outside of it ever see. There seems to have been an honest effort on the part of the film’s creators to present what they see in as judgment-free a of a mindset as is possible. Which is not to say that they don’t nudge us towards feeling one way or the other about the characters in the film. But the BDSM aspect itself is presented as something that is neither good nor evil. It is just a medium through which the emotional ups and downs of the film are explored. The thing is, as an outsider to that world, it can be hard to separate my feelings about the activity from how I view the characters themselves.
The story centers around two lovers who meet each other by chance in a pub. Collin is a meek and mild mannered parking attendant by day and a barber Shop Quartet singer by night. Ray, on the other hand, is a quiet and aloof, but commanding figure who is into motorcycles. Their dynamic isn’t subtle. The film makes sure we know by the time the opening credits have stopped rolling exactly who Colin is. He is the sub, whereas Ray is the Dom. As I previously noted, their dynamic extends beyond physical activities. When Ray commands Colin obeys. Except, Ray doesn’t just command, he humiliates. Deliberately. Every action the two of them take is a methodical, precisely timed dance. Command, push back, submit
And this is the problem I have with the film. I can’t stand Ray. We are meant to see Ray through Colin’s eyes; as a friend, a lover, and a bit of a guide. But Ray is so committed to the role of being a Dom throughout most of the film that by the time we see his gentler side, I found myself rooting for a breakup.
Strictly speaking, there are moments where Ray’s composure breaks. He clearly cares for Colin when Colin is going through a very difficult time in his life. He very quietly remembers Colin’s birthday. And we see a slight outpouring of kindness towards the end of the film. Here’s the thing about Ray. We only ever see that as tantalizing glimpses. But these glimpses are so sparing that we are left wondering whether it is part of the Humiliation Act that they even exist at all. Even the ending is ambiguous as to how much Ray really cares.
Ultimately, this is a romance film. Collin is a character trying to find love. And so a critical part of the plot becomes the tension around whether or not Colin is going to get the affection he needs as part of his existence. But this causes two problems with the film. First, it means that for most of it, Ray has to be a completely aloof character. Ray is a biker, and he is obsessively neat. But that is basically all we know about him. He does a thoroughly precise job of being the ultimate Dom. The only problem is that in so doing he is a complete asshole. Which leads me to my second problem with the film.
I mentioned before that BDSM itself is supposed to be a medium through which we explore the characters’ various ups and downs in the film. But because Ray is such a one-note character, we really can’t tell if this is the author’s interpretation of BDSM itself, or if it’s supposed to be some sort of larger commentary on toxic relationships that just happen to involve BDSM. Because as a BDSM film, it never takes the time to depict its subject matter properly before diving into what would otherwise be a really toxic story. Many outsiders have an interpretation of BDSM that leads them to see only the violence of it. The ballgags, the blunt objects, and the weird getups make for interesting cinematography. But to any portrayal of BDSM that is supposed to be even remotely accurate, they are only half the story.
Real BDSM is governed by a set of very strict rules. And Pillion doesn’t give you insight into any of that. Real BDSM is supposed to have pre-scene negotiation, safe words, and most importantly, aftercare. And the lack of any of these things is why Pillion falls short. Because in leaving out the before and after, it also leaves out something else important. Why would anyone consent to doing this kind of thing in the first place? And I once had it explained to me. BDSM is an act of submission that allows you to understand that your partner is willing to not hurt you beyond what you can take. The primary medium they express that through is usually pain. But as anyone in the scene will tell you, it’s not the Dom who’s in charge. Not really. It’s the sub. Because the sub is the one who sets the limits. But our poor dear hero is a punching bag to the end.
I think the film is in an uncomfortable position of not knowing who its audience is supposed to be. Because if you’re an audience of normies, you’re going to need all of that explained. The things I mentioned in the previous paragraph probably seem alien to anyone who isn’t already familiar with the scene. And that’s the point. On the other hand, a lot of the tension around the film is precisely around the fact that Colin doesn’t know any of this, or doesn’t seem to. To methodically explain all of this would probably ruin a lot of the narrative tension of the drama. The problem with this gap is that anyone who is familiar with the scene is going to see this movie as something of a hit piece. Because it’s a gap that’s never filled. It is somewhat implied at the end of the film that Colin’s relationship eventually gets better. But given the circumstances of how it does, I’m not quite sure the film completely gets it.
As a side note, if you decide to watch this film, be aware that it is exceedingly graphic. It absolutely earned its R rating, so much so that I think it almost tiptoes up the line of being a true NC-17. Which is another reason I don’t think it’s really for normies. People in the scene generally aren’t squeamish. But it is unusual for a mainstream film, much less a mainstream film that was at one point available in theaters, to be this explict.
Is it worth watching? Maybe, but I would recommend doing some homework first. I’ll be succinct. I wanted to like this film more than I did. The original title for this blog post was supposed to be “The gentler side of BDSM: What Pillion teaches us about love”. I really do think that is what the creators were aiming for. They just didn’t quite get there.
