Posted November 21, 2024

Behind the Scenes – Intimacy Coordinator

Because the role of intimacy coordinator is relatively new, maybe it would be a good idea to start out with a brief description of what the job is.

Intimacy coordination became a formalized role in film and television in 2017, with a show called The Deuce on HBO, which was about the porn industry. During the first season, it became apparent that they needed to put some protections in place. So they brought in a woman named Alicia Rodis, a fight coordinator with a film background, to make sure that the sex scenes were done in a respectful way, that the actors were fully consenting to the action, and that people felt safe doing these intimate scenes. It was around the time that the #MeToo movement was happening—right when there was a real re-examining of the power dynamics in the film and television industry, as so many stories were coming forward about actors being forced to do things that that they didn’t feel comfortable with. There were some other people who were doing this work, too; Tonia Sina, who had been introducing consent-based work in universities in the States, and Siobhan Richardson, a fight director who was starting to bring this work to theatre in Canada. Lindsay Somers founded the Canadian version of the intimacy directors and coordinators organization, which is called Intimacy Coordinators Canada and is based in Toronto.

Since 2018, it’s been a growing movement. TV shows like Bridgerton helped to publicize what intimacy directors and coordinators did, and there were a bunch of shows on Broadway that had coordinators come in. As well, intimacy coordination has been featured a lot more in the media. So it’s a movement that’s really had widespread reach in a short time. We don’t have it in our ACTRA agreement yet; we’re working on that, but the goal is that all productions that have any simulated sex or nudity or hyper-exposed sexual scenes would employ an intimacy coordinator. When I describe the job to people, I like to compare it to what a fight coordinator does. A fight coordinator ensures that all of the performers are doing things safely, but also, they can have a hand in crafting the look of the scenes and helping to realize the director’s vision—while making sure everybody feels empowered in their workplace.

Are intimacy coordinators now part of theatre and film education?

Well, they’re definitely talking about it at the university level. There’s a certified intimacy coordinator at the University of Winnipeg, Aria Evans. I’m really glad they have her there. And more directors have been bringing coordinators in to talk to the students and educate them on this consent-based approach.

Would you say, Sharon, that most of your work is in film and television? Or is it split fairly evenly between film/television and theatre?

Right now it is fairly split between theatre and film/TV. I was at The Stratford Festival in 2017 when I saw a production of The Bacchae that had used an intimacy director and I became very curious about what that was, so I registered for the first training cohort, which was in Urbana, Illinois. I was the only Canadian. And at the time I was doing a lot of directing in theatre, and I was just curious about it; I thought, oh, that might be an interesting piece to add to the other stuff I was doing as a director. When I was there, and I met Alicia and saw what she was doing with film and television, I identified that as being more of a need here in Winnipeg. Because I’ve worked a lot in film and television as an actor, I thought that I had the right kind of skill set to be able to kind of introduce it to productions here, which I did. So after the training and certification, I came back to Winnipeg and started working as an intimacy coordinator. At first, I was on a lot of sets where they had no idea what one did, and we all had to figure it out. It was a little bit of a dance at first to see how the role functioned, because productions weren’t used to having them. And now when I go on sets, the American production companies work with intimacy coordinators all the time, and all the crew that I’ve worked with here, they know what I need, and it’s lovely. And there are other intimacy coordinators now being trained. I always wanted to be a pioneer in something or to at least bring something new — so that feels really satisfying!

I do both theatre and film/television because I’ve worked as an actor for years in both areas. But I think that in order to do the film stuff, you really have to have been an actor for a while. You have to understand the power dynamics on film and television sets. I wouldn’t suggest to anyone who hasn’t worked a lot in film to do intimacy coordination work in film.

Is there is a step-by-step process for what you do?

Usually, the production manager will reach out to me. They’ll find out if I’m available, and then they’ll send me the script, which is confidential. Next, I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement, and then I go through the script and identify all the places where I feel like an intimacy coordinator will be necessary. And then as soon as that’s done, I meet with the director (and often the assistant director, the producer, costume designer — anybody in production who would find it useful to be at that initial meeting) and the director talks us through all the scenes. I ask specific questions like: “How much nudity will there be? What’s the action of this scene?” Because sometimes in scripts it’s vague, like, “They make out passionately.” And so I ask, “What does that mean? Where will it be happening? What would you like to see?” I take a whole bunch of notes and then once that’s done, they give me a cast list. Then I will contact the cast and have a conversation with each of them privately to talk through the scenes and find out what their comfort level is. That’s the point where they can identify things that they don’t feel comfortable with. I ask them really specific questions about nudity, for example. I ask them to get specific about their comfort levels. For example, “No frontal nudity” or “Side is okay, but nothing from the waist down.” We get really detailed, and then I write that all up.

And on most productions, there is a document called an intimacy rider. By the end of those conversations, we write out what’s going to happen. And that’s a legal document. Once everybody signs off on that, we don’t stray from that plan too much. When you’re actually shooting it, there shouldn’t be any surprises.

The whole goal is that the director will have a plan, and the actors will know what they’re doing ahead of time. I’m there to make sure the plan is followed, or if the director wants me to make it make it look more authentic or help the actors in some way. (Sometimes I’ve choreographed the whole thing. It all depends on the director.) And then I do some follow-up with the actors to make sure that the day went well. I’ve dealt with many things, for example, if they have prosthetics on their body and those are being removed by the makeup people, I will be there to make sure that that process goes well. I make sure I write everything down in case there is some kind of dispute about what happened. I am there to facilitate really awkward conversations. My job is to ask all the questions that nobody really wants to ask.

What are the characteristics that an intimacy coordinator should have? Obviously, being able to speak honestly and candidly about subjects that many people are uncomfortable with is one of them. What else?

I think that it’s really important to have been in their shoes, so to speak. I’ve had to act in intimate situations many times. And I know what I would want for support. And understanding the power dynamics that exist on these productions are essential. You get invited into the inner circle, so you really have to be able to read the room, pick up cues, see whether people are feeling uncomfortable or not, whether they need you to step in or not. You do a little dance with the director. Sometimes you have to be a master negotiator. You don’t want to rub people the wrong way, but you also don’t want to miss anything. Usually, people are quite good with me. Everybody’s on their best behavior when the intimacy coordinator is around, I think! Even if I’m just there for kissing, nothing too intense, everybody feels better. That’s the feedback I’ve been getting, anyway. I’m there as a witness; nobody can say, “Oh, so and so did this.” I’m the professional eyes, I guess. And I think producers feel a little more comfortable having that extra protection because people miss can misconstrue and cancel each other quite easily if there’s a misunderstanding.

And for the actors — some of them are afraid of touching each other now. They really need somebody to talk them through it, or at least get them to talk about it. Make a plan; write it down, rehearse it. When I am the support person there, I think it makes people less afraid. So sometimes I feel like my job isn’t really about going in there and stopping people from doing things. It’s often about facilitating these scenes in a way where everyone feels empowered and comfortable. Sometimes people think I’m going to stop the director from achieving their vision, but it’s not true — I actually help them achieve the vision. You know, if all the actors are comfortable with what the director is envisioning, then we just make that happen in a way that that everyone feels supported. Again, it’s like the fight coordinators. You know, you want to crash a car? Sure, we can crash a car, but we need all the safety measures in place. Do you want to have a full simulated sex scene where the actors are completely nude? Sure, we can do that, but we have to have all of the safeties in place.

It sounds tricky!

I think that’s what I love about it. Every single situation is completely different. It’s so cool. It’s scary, it’s challenging. It’s allowed me to learn a lot about people. I love talking about it.  One day I would like to write a little book about it. I’ve had so many different scenarios — things that you wouldn’t even think about. And different personalities and things that people bring up that make you go, “Oh yeah, okay. I never thought about that!”

Sharon, as a writer, if you were going to write a sex scene into a screenplay or a script, would you be specific? Would you not write “They make out”? Would you fill in the details?

I think if I was directing it, I would get really specific. But because it’s such a collaborative process, when you write, “They make out, it accelerates, they get really passionate” or something like that, it’s a story point more than it is a description of how it’s going to be executed. So I think if I had my writer hat on, I probably wouldn’t get really specific. If I was directing it, I would have an idea of how I want that scene to go. But as a writer, as a storyteller, I’m just saying, “This is what’s occurring,” and I’d let them interpret that. Because you don’t want to get bogged down in the details when you’re reading a story, you want to think, “Oh my gosh, they finally kissed! What happens next?”

Do you think intimate scenes are more realistic-looking now?

I get this question a lot! There are so many sex scenes on television that look real, more real than they did before there were intimacy coordinators. And that’s because if there’s an art to this job, it is specificity. We learn as coordinators how to make it look real, and because it’s all safe, we can go further in the design of these scenes. Before, it would often be very vague. Some directors were different, but often it would be up to the actors to figure out how they were going to do the scene. And, just like any choreography, you can make it better if you have somebody there that’s really looking at the details. So, why does it look so real now? It’s because it’s so much more not real now. There’s so much choreography.

With the growing popularity of the intimacy coordinator role, have you found that there is an improvement in the types of prosthetics and safe garments that are now available? 

There’s a whole website devoted to materials that you can purchase if you’re a coordinator. It’s out of the UK, and it’s called IntiMask. It’s a really interesting website; there are prosthetics; there are genital barriers. If actors are performing a scene where their genitals are close together, there are all kinds of covers and tape. If you see two actors that are completely naked, usually it’s fake genitals that you’re seeing. People are completely taped up when they’re together or there’s a barrier between them. All kinds of equipment have been developed specifically for coordinators.

That alone would make people feel more comfortable doing these types of scenes.

It really does. The feedback from actors has been 100% positive. As has the feedback from other departments. The hair and makeup people, because they’re always with the actors, they were usually the ones that took care of actors during intimate scenes. If something went awry or if they were feeling uncomfortable, actors would often go to the hair and makeup people. And the feedback from the people in those departments is like, “Oh my gosh, I’m so glad that there’s somebody devoted to looking at those scenes so that I can actually do my job of looking after the hair, and not worrying about what the actors are feeling or if anything is going wrong with them.”

As an intimacy coordinator, with the signed agreements in place, I’m assuming you would have more power to intervene than a makeup person or other crew member.

In the power dynamic structure, I don’t have any actual power, but I definitely have a psychological power. And people do tend to respect that. I can move within this power structure freely. That’s how I feel, anyway. And, as someone who has been a female performer my whole life, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so empowered in a job! And I don’t want to abuse that.

I noticed that the people that you mentioned as pioneers in this field are all women. Do you feel that it’s preferable to have a woman in the intimacy coordinator role?

I get asked this quite often. When I went to my original training, I was expecting that it would all be women or female-identifying people. But no, there was a handful of men in the program, including one of the instructors who came at the work from the stunt coordinating side, and they were great too. I don’t think it’s necessary that intimacy coordinators be women, except I sometimes tell people this: Imagine you’re a twenty-year-old woman, and you’re in a scene in your underwear with a fully clothed man. Or say you’re in a scene where you’re playing a pole dancer and you’re surrounded by male extras. If you look around the room while they’re shooting it, usually the camera person’s a man, the sound guy’s a man, the director’s  a man, the producer’s a man. It’s changing a little bit; you see a lot more women in these roles now, but it’s still heavily a male crew, especially in those high-powered, creative positions. So who does that twenty-year-old in her underwear want to have as their ally in the room? It’s probably another woman.

In the very first intimacy job I ever had, that was the case. It was a movie star — I won’t say who it was, but she was standing there in her underwear, and we looked around the room, and there were about fifteen men in the room and me. And we made eye contact, and I said, “I got you.” Afterwards, she said, “Where were you when I was eighteen?” You know, this is a woman who’s probably my age. She’s been in the industry a really long time, but that was the first time she had ever worked with an intimacy coordinator. And just the presence of a person of her gender tilting the balance a little bit in the room made a difference.

So that’s what I would say. I mean, not to discourage male-identifying people from taking on this job, but film and TV sets currently skew heavily male, and until that shifts, I think it is a good job for, for women, honestly.