Whether you’ve seen him in popular HBO series like “True Blood,” “Succession,” and “Big Little Lies,” the dynamic Swedish actor Alexander Skarsgård has that smoldering gaze that immediately draws viewers in. 

Following in the footsteps of his father Stellan, (who just won the Golden Globe for “Sentimental Value”) the Golden Globe, Emmy, and SAG winner Skarsgård continues to be an actor who is fearless in the roles he takes on. 

That courageousness is evident in Skarsgård’s latest film, the BDSM black comedy “Pillion,”which he also executive produces. He plays Ray, the handsome, hyper-dominant leader of a gay bike gang. The film was written and directed by Harry Lighton, and is based on the 2020 novel “Box Hill,” by Adam Mars-Jones. 

“This was a small film by a first time filmmaker and it wasn’t financed when I read it,”  Skarsgård told journalists at a recent awards news conference. “And I felt that, if I could help in any small way of getting it financed, I wanted to, because I thought it was such an incredible screenplay and I believe in Harry Lighton so much as a filmmaker. And it felt tonally unlike anything I’d ever read. It was such an exciting, surprising read.”

Skarsgård was blown away by the quality of the unconventional script. “When I heard BDSM relationship, biker culture, I expected something very different. I didn’t expect it to have so much sweetness and tenderness and awkwardness.”

For the sex scenes and nudity with co-star, Harry Melling — who excels in his portrayal as Ray’s submissive Colin — Skarsgård talked very early on with Lighton about how he wanted to shoot those scenes, and why they were in the film. 

“I often find sex scenes quite boring in movies because a lot of the tension is in the drama leading up to two people hooking up, or several people hooking up, as in our movie. But what I really enjoyed about these scenes — they are all pivotal moments in Colin’s journey and his development. It’s the first time he gets a blowjob. It’s the first time he has sex. It’s the first time he has an orgasm. And these are pivotal moments for him, so they mean a lot. And that made those scenes impactful and important.” 

Skarsgård was happy that Lighton’s script didn’t have gratuitous scenes that shock for the sake of just shocking. “I really appreciated that because I find that when this subculture is portrayed, it’s often dangerous and crazy and wild and something like transgressive.”

He continued: “I really love that Harry wanted it to feel real. It can be sexy and intense, but also quite loving and sweet. And you can have an orgy in the woods, rub up against a Sunday roast with the family. And that kind of feels real.”

One of the obstacles Skarsgård had to work with was Ray’s emotionally distant personality.

“Ray is so enigmatic throughout the film and you obviously never find out anything about him, his past. He doesn’t reveal much. He doesn’t expose himself. And that was a challenge to try to make the character interesting, because that could easily feel quite flat…That was something that I thought quite a lot about in pre production…there are no big dramatic shifts in his arc.”

For the film, Lighton consulted the GMBCC, the UK’s largest LGBT+ biker club, attending their annual meetup at which 80 riders were present. 

“Working with these guys was extraordinary and it brought so much texture and richness to the film to have them present,” said Skarsgård. “They were incredibly sweet and guiding with us — I can’t imagine making this movie without them. I’d go on a road trip with them anytime.”

Added Skarsgård: “To sum up ‘Pillion’ in three words: lube, sweat, and leather. I hope people will connect with Colin and his journey, and come to understand the nuance and complexity of his bond with Ray.”

This year is shaping up to be a busy one for Skarsgård. “Pillion” premieres in select cities on Feb. 6 and then moves into wide release on Feb. 20. After that for Skarsgård is a role in queer ally Charli XCX’s mockumentary, “The Moment,” which premieres at the Sundance Film Festival. HIs sci-fi comedy series,  Apple TV’s “Murderbot,” which he also executive produces, will begin filming its second season. And this weekend, he hosts “Saturday Night Live.”

The LGBTQ youth services organization SMYAL held its annual fundraiser, ‘SMYAL for the New Year,’ at Shakiki (2012 9th Street, N.W.) on Thursday, Jan. 22.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

In 1976, a movie called “Network” electrified American moviegoers with a story in which a respected news anchor goes on the air and exhorts his viewers to go to their windows and yell, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

It’s still an iconic line, and it briefly became a familiar catch phrase in the mid-’70s lexicon of pop culture, the perfect mantra for a country worn out and jaded by a decade of civil unrest, government corruption, and the increasingly powerful corporations that were gradually extending their influence into nearly all aspects of American life. Indeed, the movie itself is an expression of that same frustration, a satire in which a man’s on-the-air mental health crisis is exploited by his corporate employers for the sake of his skyrocketing ratings – and spawns a wave of “reality” programming that sensationalizes outrage, politics, and even violence to turn it into popular entertainment for the masses. Sound familiar?

It felt like an exaggeration at the time, an absurd scenario satirizing the “anything-for-ratings” mentality that had become a talking point in the public conversation. Decades later, it’s recognized as a savvy premonition of things to come.

This, of course, is not a review of “Network.” Rather, it’s a review of the latest movie by “new queer cinema” pioneer Gus Van Sant (his first since 2018), which is a fictionalized account of a real-life on-the-air incident that happened only a few months after “Network” prompted national debate about the media’s responsibility in choosing what it should and should not broadcast – and the fact that it strikes a resonant chord for us in 2026 makes it clear that debate is as relevant as ever.

“Dead Man’s Wire” follows the events of a 63-hour hostage situation in Indianapolis that begins when Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård) shows up for an early morning appointment at the office of a mortgage company to which he is under crippling debt. Ushered into a private office for a one-on-one meeting with Dick Hall (Dacre Montgomery), son of the brokerage’s wealthy owner, he kidnaps the surprised executive at gunpoint and rigs him with a “dead man’s wire” – a device that secures a shotgun against a captive’s head that is triggered to discharge with any attempt at escape – before calling the police himself to issue demands for the release of his hostage, which include immunity for his actions, forgiveness of his debt, reimbursement for money he claims was swindled from him by the company, and an apology. 

The crisis becomes a public spectacle when Kiritsis subjects his prisoner to a harrowing trip through the streets back to his apartment, which he claims is wired with explosives. As the hours tick by, the neighborhood surrounding his building becomes a media circus. Realizing that law enforcement officials are only pretending to negotiate while they make plans to take him down, he enlists the aid of a popular local radio DJ Fred Heckman (Colman Domingo) to turn the situation into a platform for airing his grievances –  and for calling out the predatory financial practices that drove him to this desperate situation in the first place.

We won’t tell you how it plays out, for the sake of avoiding spoilers, even though it’s all a matter of public record. Suffice to say that the crisis reaches a volatile climax in a live broadcast that’s literally one wrong move away from putting an explosion of unpredictable real-life violence in front of millions of TV viewers.

In 1977, the Kiritsis incident certainly contributed to ongoing concerns about violence on television, but there was another aspect of the case that grabbed public attention: Kiritsis himself. Described by those who knew him as “helpful,” “kind,” and a “hard worker,” he was hardly the image of a hardened criminal, and many Americans – who shared his anger and desperation over the opportunistic greed of a finance industry they believed was playing them for profit – could sympathize with his motives. Inevitably, he became something of a populist hero – or anti-hero, at least – for standing up to a stacked system, an underdog who spoke things many of them felt and took actions many of them wished they could take, too.

That’s the thing that makes this true-life crime adventure uniquely suited to the talents of Van Sant, a veteran indie auteur whose films have always specialized in humanizing “outsider” characters, usually pushed to the fringes of society by circumstances only partly under their own control, and often driven to desperate acts in pursuit of an unattainable dream. Tony Kiritsis, a not-so-regular “Joe” whose fumbling efforts toward financial security have been turned against him and seeks only recompense for his losses, fits that profile to a tee, and the filmmaker gives us a version of him (aided by Skarsgård’s masterfully modulated performance) that leaves little doubt that he – from a certain point of view, at least – is the story’s unequivocal protagonist, no matter how “lawless” his actions might be.

It helps that the film gives us much more exposure to Kiritsis’ personality than could be seen merely during the historic live broadcast that made him infamous, spending much of the movie focused on his interactions with Hall (performed with equally well-managed nuance by Montgomery) during the two days spent in the apartment, as well as his dealings with DJ Heckman (rendered with savvy and close-to-the-chest cageyness by Domingo); for balance, we also get fly-on-the-wall access to the interplay outside between law enforcement officials (including Cary Elwes’ blue collar neighborhood cop) as they try to navigate a potentially deadly situation, and to the jockeying of an ambitious rookie street reporter (Myha’la) with the rest of the press for “scoops” with each new development.

But perhaps the interaction that finally sways us in Kiritsis’s favor takes place via phone with his captive’s mortgage tycoon father (Al Pacino, evoking every unscrupulous, amoral mob boss he’s ever played), who is willing to sacrifice his own son’s life rather than negotiate a deal. It’s a nugget of revealed avarice that was absent in the “official” coverage of the ordeal, which largely framed Kiritsis as mentally unstable and therefore implied a lack of credibility to his accusations against Meridian Mortgage. It’s also a moment that hits hard in an era when the selfishness of wealthy men feels like a particularly sore spot for so many underdogs.

That’s not to say there’s an overriding political agenda to “Dead Man’s Wire,” though Van Sant’s character-driven emphasis helps make it into something more than just another tension-fueled crime story; it also works to raise the stakes by populating the story with real people instead of predictable tropes, which, coupled with cinematographer Arnaud Potier’s studied emulation of gritty ‘70s cinema and the director’s knack for inventive visual storytelling, results in a solid, intelligent, and darkly humorous thriller – and if it reconnects us to the “mad-as-hell” outrage of the “Network” era, so much the better.

After all, if the last 50 years have taught us anything about the battle between ethics and profit, it’s that profit usually wins.