The Dom, the Sub, and the Rom-Com. Inside Pillion: Alexander Skarsgård’s Most Unlikely Love Story

Harry Lighton in conversation with Alexander Skarsgård

Hardcore biker BDSM meets rom-com—who knew it could work? But it does, and with disarming humanity. Alexander Skarsgård’s latest movie is Pillion—one of the most unexpected films of the year. Debut director Harry Lighton delivers a darkly funny, emotionally precise study of intimacy, power, and control in a love story set in the charged world of BDSM biker culture. Adapted loosely from Adam Mars-Jones’s Box Hill, the film follows Harry Melling as Colin, the awkward, eager-to-please newcomer to a queer biker gang, and Alexander Skarsgård as Ray, the magnetic dom who takes him under his leather-clad wing. Their dynamic becomes a study in devotion and desire, charting how intimacy can exist inside structure, how power and care sometimes overlap and how love resists rules.

At the centre of it all is Alexander Skarsgård, who continues his exploration of complex masculinity. From Melancholia and Big Little Lies to Infinity Pool, he has portrayed men navigating the uneasy balance between power and vulnerability. As Ray, he channels that same duality inward with one of the best performances of his career.

DUST sat down with Skarsgård and Lighton to discuss building trust, shaping a character that walks the line between dominance and care, and the film’s emotional landing.

All images by Jack Pierson

Harry Lighton – Hey, man. How are you doing?

Alexander Skarsgård – I’m pretty good. Where are you?

H.L. – In London, I am currently in Stepney, which is where I live. However, I’m in my housemate’s bedroom because my bedroom is a mess, so I didn’t want to expose you to it. Where are you? I just see a plain wall. It’s challenging to gain insight into the man behind the mask without a background.

A.S. – Well, that’s my MO—man of mystery, enigma and all that. I’m in Stockholm right now. Where do you want to start? When we first crossed paths?

H.L. – That would be when we had our very first Zoom meeting and went over the script. I was probably in this same room.

A.S. – I think you were at your parents’ because I remember you had a very soft approach—your demeanour, the visual of it—you wore a knitted cardigan. It wasn’t a Christmas cardigan, but you would’ve looked great in the Last Christmas video by Wham!. It looked like your mother might’ve knitted it. You were in this rural pitch-in, bucolic setting.

H.L. – I wouldn’t have worn that by accident, so I wonder what I was trying to project by putting on my mum’s cardigan.

A.S. – Well, my interpretation is that the script is pretty hardcore and out there—a couple of pages in, and I was in an alley getting a blowjob. Maybe you wanted to contrast that by saying, “Hey, look at me, I’m just a nice guy, sitting in my mother’s kitchen wearing my mother’s knitted cardigan.” Maybe that was it.

H.L. – I feel like you saw right through me there. I should’ve just got my leathers out.

A.S. – That would’ve scared me off, yeah.

H.L. – And you were, I remember, in total darkness except for your phone light. Do you remember this? All I could see was your chin because you were holding your phone in front of you. What were you trying to project?

A.S. – Presenting myself once again as an enigma (laughing), doing the Kurtz from Heart of Darkness, from Apocalypse Now, crawling around in the darkness. We’re sitting here now, so it clearly worked for both of us.

H.L. – It was a good meeting. I remember coming off and thinking, He’s a friend for life, this guy—and then didn’t hear from you for nine months.

A.S. – But honestly, that same day after our Zoom meeting—after reading the script—I told my agents straight away that I wanted to work with you and make this movie. It just took a while to find the right time to do it, but there was never any doubt; that meeting already felt like the start of something.

H.L. – Totally. Then the next time I met you was at an Arcade Fire concert, I believe.

A.S. – That’s right. I came out to London for a wedding. I wasn’t there for work, and I was going to see Arcade Fire in Brixton, so I asked if you wanted to join. It was nice to have an evening where we didn’t talk about the project—just hang out, listen to good music, drink a couple of beers, and have a good time. And then you came to Stockholm with a bunch of wrestling singlets and leather outfits for the costume fitting. That was a great day.

H.L. – Except for that motorcycle accident. It was my first time in Stockholm, and on the way to the fitting, I saw a really nasty accident. This guy was screaming in the street, and I remember thinking, Well, that can’t be a good omen. I told you, and you said, “Well, I’m not superstitious, are you?” I lied and said no, but I said eight prayers on my flight back.

A.S. – That was probably just a sign that the film’s ending was meant to veer away from the book’s, Box Hill, on which the movie is based,and which ends with a tragic bike accident.

H.L. – That too, probably.

A.S. – What was it in the book that caught you when you first read it?

H.L. – What I loved about it was the feelings it provoked in me—the fact that it made me laugh one minute and then feel provoked into a new thought the next, or feel in some way seen or empathised with. It also moved me, and that combination of comedy and empathy I thought was interesting. That was what I wanted to keep in the adaptation. I wanted the film to evoke that rare cocktail of emotions in people. And I changed a few things, the end, as you mentioned and mostly the relationship between Ray and Colin. In the book, it’s quite static—Colin accepts his role as submissive pretty unwaveringly. I was more interested in exploring what would happen if Colin became dissatisfied with his role and started pushing against the rules of the relationship, and how that might bring Ray and Colin into friction. That’s probably the most significant point of departure.

A.S. – I didn’t read the book in preparation for making the movie, knowing that your Ray was quite different from the Ray in Box Hill. I didn’t see the value in reading it and getting that mixed up while I was figuring out who my Ray was. Our Ray definitely has a darker side—there’s darkness to the character—but it’s much more pronounced in the book, where it takes a much darker turn. I didn’t see the benefit in doing that. I wanted to stay true to the version I first met when I read the screenplay and started talking to you. So I chose to wait until we were done and then read the book. And I really enjoyed it—it was a great read.

H.L. – I wonder if reading the book earlier would’ve made you more cautious about the line between consent and abuse, possibly, because the sex in the book is much harsher.

A.S. – Yeah. I don’t think that would’ve benefited me. It probably would’ve affected how I approached the character. It was important to us—when we were shooting the scene in the alley, the first time they hook up—that we kept the tone right. We did one take where I was a bit more forceful and Harry was gagging a bit more, and it didn’t feel right; it got darker. For the story we were trying to tell, that was the wrong introduction to their relationship. If you start with Ray basically raping Colin in a back alley, you’re definitely not going to hope that Ray calls him back or that they go on a second date. What I loved about the script is that it’s nuanced. There are moments when you’re confused, even rooting for them to be together, thinking they could be a beautiful couple. Then, as Colin’s journey unfolds and his sense of discovery deepens, things change. However, it was essential to begin from a point where Colin is fascinated by Ray, and you want the audience to accompany him on that journey. That night, after a few takes, Harry Melling and I got together and said, “It’s the first time they meet; it should feel awkward and intense, but it’s important that we come out of it feeling what Colin feels at the end—almost with a smile. Like, this was maybe transgressive, but also exciting and new, with potential for something.” It was important to keep that open.

H.L. – Yeah. There’s a good line from the book that carried over: “I felt sore, but also proud beneath the soreness.” I think that’s how Colin feels after the first alley blowjob: a real sense of victory in having gone through with it.

A.S. – It’s that moment when he comes home to his parents, and he’s touching his knee—there’s a little wet stain on it—and it feels good to touch it. There are moments that shift from something raw and hardcore to unexpectedly tender, even romantic—that contrast is what gives the script and the film their strength 

H.L. – People laugh when they hear the film described as a “BDSM rom-com” because it sounds like an oxymoron, like it shouldn’t fit together. I suppose I was curious about why they seem so incompatible. Rom-coms are a genre built on mainstream romantic ideals, and BDSM is, in a way, the opposite of the mainstream—it exists in the extreme. From a distance, it’s easy to think of them in coded terms: rom-coms are about warmth and mainstream appeal, while BDSM is cold, harsh, and niche. But if you spend time with the BDSM community, you see there’s plenty of warmth, joy, humour, and contradiction there. I wanted to see where BDSM neatly maps onto a rom-com template, and where it doesn’t—where it butts heads with it. Take, for instance, the idea of bringing a dom like Ray round for roast dinner at Colin’s parents’ house—such a classic rom‑com setup, the “meet‑the‑parents” dinner. That relationship wasn’t built for that, and it ends up being awkward for everyone involved. But at the same time, there are plenty of S&M relationships where going from an orgy or a play session to a roast dinner with your partner and their parents is totally compatible. I wanted to place those two worlds side by side and let an audience decide whether it felt like a contradiction or something that actually worked.

A.S. – I wouldn’t call it an oxymoron, but that clash between rom-com and BDSM was what I loved about the script, and what surprised me most when I first read it. Going into it, all I knew was that it was a sub–dom relationship story. I was so surprised when I found myself giggling or laughing out loud or being really moved by it. It was rare—it felt unpredictable. Usually, reading a script, you know exactly what the next page will bring, but this one kept me engaged and surprised for a hundred pages. That’s when you know there’s potential for a great movie. Because films depicting BDSM or any subculture often lean into the most extreme versions of it. The way the movie approached it was so interesting—it can be graphic and extreme, but also awkward, weird, and even mundane. Like cutting from an orgy in the woods to a roast dinner with the family the next day—that’s real life. That happens. It’s not a movie that’s a hundred minutes of shock for the sake of shock. It walked the line beautifully between the extremes and the tenderness.

H.L. – I wanted the film to reach beyond the people who’d instantly run to see a movie about that subculture. One of the things that I love about cinema is when I step into a world I don’t know, spend ninety minutes there, and recognise parts of myself in it. That’s why I wanted one foot in the mainstream and one in being faithful to the community represented. It’s more fun when audiences come in not knowing what to expect—and end up surprising themselves. Despite being a very particular relationship, there’s a clear emotional arc in how the characters relate to love, rules, and intimacy—something a broad audience can still connect with. We don’t know why Ray is reluctant to have a more conventional romantic relationship. Maybe he’s scared of intimacy, but perhaps he’s tried it and it doesn’t work for him. Maybe he just wants to build a life around eroticism rather than intimacy. Colin, on the other hand, is experiencing this world for the first time—the strict dom–sub relationship—and his journey is discovering that sex alone isn’t enough for him. He wants a few crumbs of intimacy. He wants a day off once a week.

A.S. – I love that ambiguity at the end. The movie would’ve felt much more preachy and didactic if you had tried to hammer home the message that Ray is running away from his feelings, and Colin is the strong one because he embraces who he is and what he wants. I really like that there are many ways to interpret the ending—the reasons why Ray sets up this day off, this rom-com trope, and how it ends. It can be read in several ways.

H.L. – Totally—and the way you play Ray really embodies all these questions. It seems you’re generally drawn to challenging characters, often a bit extreme, like this one. Why is that, buddy? Are you weird?

A.S. – I think I’m pretty vanilla in real life. Even though I’ve spent half my life in the States, I’m still very much the archetypal Swede-Scandinavian, not too emotional, nothing too extreme, always seeking consensus. Perhaps instead of going to therapy, I take on roles that allow me to act out a bit more—something transformative, expressive, or just a little unconventional. It’s a way for me to open up and connect with myself so I can go back to my mundane life in Stockholm, go to the grocery store, and politely wait in line after a crazy journey like Pillion or some of the other films I’ve done lately.

H.L. – Do you ever think about doing something closer to your boring Swedish self?

A.S. – Yeah, actually. It’d be interesting to play a character who’s just boring. The roles I’ve played have been very expressive, outgoing, and strong personalities. Maybe it’d be interesting to do something closer to my boring self. You know, a character who disappears into the background.

H.L. – I don’t know if I’d call him boring, but your character in Melancholia always interested me because he’s a bit timid, and Kirsten Dunst totally tramples all over him. It’s very interesting—it’s like the opposite of Ray, in a way.

A.S. – Very much so. Very submissive. That was thirteen years ago. I guess I’m ready for another one—but if you direct it, you’ll probably cast my father to play me.

H.L. – I’ll write a future version of you, and Stellan can play that.

A.S. – Yeah, that would be your second movie. Let’s see how it goes. Pillion, as your debut, is already pretty remarkable—and pretty self-assured.

H.L. – I didn’t feel particularly assured when I was making it. I think having people around me with more experience helped. Someone once told me that when you’re worried about seeming incompetent, the instinct is to surround yourself with people at your level or below so they can’t catch you out. But the advice I got—and followed—was always to hire people who might be better than you. With Pillion, it wasn’t that I hired a large number of experienced people; the crew was young. But I tried to hire people whose talent intimidated me. 

A.S. – The way you directed made me feel really confident in you. I’ve worked with first-time filmmakers before, and sometimes young directors try to hide their inexperience. They want to have an answer for everything, even when they don’t, which can trip them up later. What was refreshing about you was that you weren’t afraid to say you didn’t know. You’d ask the DP, “Is this a good shot? Should we try that?” or talk things through with us. Admitting you don’t have every answer is something even experienced directors struggle with, but it’s what makes collaboration work. That attitude created a really open environment on set. Everyone felt like they were making the film with you, not for you, and that gave them ownership of the story. It’s incredibly exciting to be on a set where everyone feels invested—it’s rare. Usually, people just want to clock out and go home at the end of the day. But here, everyone cared about telling the story. That’s a testament to you as a director.

H.L. – Thank you. I do remember once, actually, when we were filming on the high street, going up to you after a take and being like, “It’s horrible, but I don’t know what to do.” And you were like, “You’re going to need to give me a bit more than that.” Do you remember that?

A.S. – I was like, “Thank you for your honesty. My acting may be horrible, but so is your directing. You’ve got to give me something.”

H.L. – Fair enough. Thank god for my team. Who needs a director when you’ve got the best crew in the business? Robbie—our intimacy co-ordinator—really earnt his crust on this one, huh.

A.S. – It was really fun shaping those scenes together with Robbie and you, because all the sex scenes were really dynamic and propelled the story forward. Robbie was instrumental in finding the best way to tell that story—in terms of shots, physicality, and ideas. He brought great energy, was incredibly talented, and made the whole process collaborative and exciting.

H.L. – I’ve got a question for you—final question. You’re going up against your dad for Best Supporting Actor at the Gotham Awards in two weeks. Do you want to say anything to the jury to make them vote for you over Daddy?

A.S. – Well, I don’t know. Should you award someone for playing themselves? I thought acting was about embodying someone else. That’s all I’ll say. The old man is going down.

H.L. – (laughing) We’ll see about that. But what you’re also saying is you’re not like Ray. Shock horror. That’s an exclusive.

A.S. – Remember, I’m still the Swede waiting politely in line at the grocery store—just trying to keep a little mystery alive.