Intimacy Coordinators: The New Group Of Experts Poised To Change Hollywood Forever

We all accept that "movie magic" is at play when watching movies or TV shows featuring scenes of glorious battles or dragons in flight. However, what movie magic is required when the dragon rider and the knight share a kiss? Hollywood understands that fight, dance, and stunt choreography are key elements of a memorable and safe production. But when it comes to scenes of an intimate nature like a tender kiss -– or one in a busy brothel -– not so much. At least, not until recently.

Intimacy coordinators are the new experts poised to change Hollywood forever. While they've existed formally for a decade, they've only recently spent time in the limelight. Intimacy coordinators stage and design intimacy with the same care fight coordinators use to stage screen violence — and some people are mad about it. "Game of Thrones" actor Sean Bean told the Times of London he thought that intimacy coordinators would "spoil" spontaneity on set, and the natural way lovers behave would be ruined by someone bringing it right down to a technical exercise.

Bean's comments swiftly sparked reaction. Actress Emma Thompson told an Australian podcast Fitzy and Wippa, "You can't just let it flow. There's a camera there and a crew. You're not on your own in a hotel room." Rachel Zegler, star of Steven Spielberg's "West Side Story" tweeted her gratitude for intimacy coordinators on set, "They showed grace to a newcomer like myself + educated those around me who've had years of experience. Spontaneity in intimate scenes can be unsafe. Wake up."

Still, Bean's view isn't uncommon among old-guard actors and directors. SAG-AFTRA only published guidelines regulating the practice in 2020, defining the role of an intimacy coordinator. So what makes intimacy coordinators so important when it comes to staging simulated sex acts, and why is their role so important -– and debated –- right now?

Intimacy coordinators act as physical choreographers of what can be psychologically intense moments on stage and screen. They act as a facilitator of communication between many players on set. They are not therapists but are trained to handle conflict resolution and recognize signs of trauma to help navigate triggering situations. They work with actors, costume and camera departments, and the director to create effective ways of simulating sex acts. They get all of it in writing –- consent is now a key component of a performer's contract and thereby protected by an added layer of legality.

"An intimacy coordinator is somebody who brings a clear structure and a process when choreographing intimate scenes in both theater, TV, and film," Ita O'Brien, a pioneer in the intimacy coordination field, expressed in a video from The Guardian about her work on Sally Rooney's "Normal People." Gaby Labotka, intimacy director for the Tony Award-nominated "Paradise Square," agrees. "We facilitate consent between performers in order to simulate intimate actions or stories within the director's vision, without sacrificing people's emotional, physical or mental safety," Labotka tells Looper. "We try to mitigate any harm or risks that might come with these sorts of really vulnerable stories and vulnerable pieces of storytelling."

"We give people tools to be able to name the boundaries that they have," Labotka adds. "Often in the arts, we're trained to believe that we're not allowed to have boundaries, or someone else will take our job. So I try to find ways to respect boundaries so we can get the best performance and meet the vision without sacrificing people's well-being." The name of the intimacy coordinating game is empowerment and care. This can frighten old-school creators who work on impulse, but ultimately this coordination expedites the filmmaking process and keeps actors safe on set.

So what does a day's work look like when it comes to coordinating intimacy? While the workday tends to vary, every aspect of intimacy coordination requires communication, creativity, and check-ins regarding consent — plus plenty of paperwork. Intimacy coordinators start their projects by learning scripts, getting a feel for the vision and tone the director is working towards, as well as discussing tactics with actors and costume departments. Above all, intimacy coordinators facilitate discussions about consent and respecting boundaries in pursuit of a creative goal. The goal — shooting simulated sex or other intimacy — often leaves room for interpretation.

As Alicia Rodis told The Washington Post, "You might see a script that reads, '[The actors] are making passionate love on the sofa,' " she said. "So, what does that mean? What does that entail?" She then makes sure "conversations between the director and actors are had beforehand. Also making sure that we know exactly what the actors have agreed to nudity-wise, so they are not suddenly put in a position where they have to say 'no' in the moment, since there's a huge power dynamic on sets."

While it's heartwarming to think Hollywood sought out intimacy coordinators out of concern for the people that power its industry, the truth is more hardline: no one wants a lawsuit. Someone sinister influenced Hollywood's safer fake sex seachange –- and his name is Harvey Weinstein. While the #MeToo impact stretches far beyond Weinstein's misdeeds (via BBC), it was the sexual assault and misconduct allegations against the former movie mogul that shook the film industry to its core.

While intimacy coordinators existed before #MeToo, especially in live theater, they saw increased demand around Weinstein's scandals breaking big in 2017. Actress Salma Hayek alleged in The New York Times that Weinstein not only demanded sexual favors from her but forced her to shoot a full-frontal nude scene in "Frida" as punishment when she refused. #MeToo allegations range in extremity, but the Weinstein stories highlight how unchecked power on sets often proves disastrous. With #MeToo, sexual misconduct in film and TV production went from being whispered about in back rooms to global news, and sets scrambled to hire intimacy coordinators (via The Conversation).

In 2018, industry giant HBO mandated that all film and TV under its banner be produced in partnership with intimacy coordinators, as announced by Rolling Stone. Since the shift, consent is increasingly a matter of legality. Actors and agents negotiating contracts now have specific language in place for their protection and any changes made can affect a project's bottom line. Intimacy coordinators communicate these boundaries on and off-set both as a creative matter and a legal one.

The standards intimacy coordinators set don't seek to proscribe an exact way all sets must express physicality, but rather guidelines to keep sets safe. Ita O'Brien's "Intimacy on Set Guidelines" are a de facto industry standard and provide framework boundaries for productions to adhere to regarding communication, planning, and changes. SAG-AFTRA released their own Standards and Protocols for the Use of Industry Coordinators in 2020. Updated protocols, standards, and accreditation systems are in a state of constant revision, reflecting the dynamism that defines intimacy-related work.

"When you have a profession where people have to touch each other at their job, there need to be rules around that," Sina insists to The Huffington Post. Prominent intimacy coordinator Lizzy Talbot agrees. "When it came to intimacy, there weren't any [rules and protocols initially]. It was just really interesting seeing the dynamic between the fact that there were all of these rules and regulations for violence and yet none for intimacy," she told CNN.

Talbot acted as intimacy coordinator for "Bridgerton," and actress Phoebe Dynevor expressed the benefits of more protocols being followed under Talbot's intimacy work in an interview with Grazia magazine. Dynevor explained, "'My first-ever scene was in episode six, where Simon is going down on Daphne. And it was so great, because it felt safe and fun: you choreograph it like a stunt, or a dance. It's crazy to me that that hasn't been there in the past. I've done sex scenes before that I can't believe I did: it was only five or six years ago, but it would not be allowed now."

Intimacy coordination is a relatively new field, and while it is diverse, it is overwhelmingly populated with cishet white women. While that isn't problematic on its face, the longer the field exists and the more coordinators there are with a wealth of experiences, the better real life will be reflected — both behind the scenes and on-screen. "Making sure that there is representation in the room is incredibly important," intimacy coordinator Sasha Smith tells The Hollywood Reporter. "As a Black woman, I'm always an advocate for diversity and inclusion ... not just BIPOC but also disabled bodies and trans bodies."

Smith spoke about the responsibility of her role to Elle, stating, "If you look at the roles usually given to Black people, it's usually a narrative surrounded around trauma. That is something that already lives in our bodies based on the society we are in. ... Having the tools and language to be able to cut through that energy and recognize where the tension is being held [helps] redirect how we're crafting the scene, so [that] we don't have to live in the heaviness of it."

Mia Schachter, a leading intimacy coordinator, encountered the need for more inclusive intimacy coordination on HBO's "Insecure," as they explained to The Hollywood Reporter. Schachter was acting as the intimacy coordinator during a shoot in which a white director was overseeing a scene involving two Black actors. The director instructed the male actor to run his fingers through his female costar's hair, which prompted Schachter to reach out to a Black colleague to ask if this was a situation that should have been cleared by an intimacy coordinator. "She told me, 'Yes, because that's not how Black people show care and intimacy and love.' This reinforced for me that I'm not the right person for every gig and that we desperately needed further representation in the field in Los Angeles," Schachter recalled.

Many intimacy coordinators were (or are) actors themselves. Many also have their own negative experiences of spontaneous scenes and intimate demands that went wrong. Intimacy coordinator and former actress Alicia Rodis told Men's Health that she first noticed a discrepancy between the level of involvement of choreographers in different types of scenes when she would prepare for stunts. 

Rodis explained that when prepping to perform something like a high fall, she would always work closely with stunt coordinators who ensured that both the performer and the crew knew what to expect. However, this was not the case for scenes that were of a more intimate nature. Rodis recalled, "And then I would go in to do a scene of intimacy — be it stimulated sex or nudity — and I didn't have anyone ... There was no set vocabulary. There was no real protocol around how they were doing these scenes. So I saw that as an opportunity of, 'I think this is really needed.'"

Intimacy coordinators are taking that opportunity and running with it to create safer sets for the present generation. These concerns are present whether a film is depicting a simple embrace in a family drama or a slasher horror story that takes place during the making of an old-school porno film, as in Ti West's "X."  As Brittany Snow explained to Collider, "I felt safe because there was so much consideration and care about every single shot in that movie. Nothing was shown that wasn't talked about at length beforehand." Snow continued, "There was an intimacy coordinator on set, Tandi Wright ... who was an angel and made sure that everything was based in character and not gratuitous sort of shock and awe. I think that was necessary for me to do the movie."

Years after it burned to the ground, Westeros lives again in the "Game Of Thrones" prequel series "House of the Dragon." Thankfully, the realm's loose standards of intimacy coordination do not. Miriam Lucia works as an intimacy coordinator on the show and was pressed into service when young actress Emily Carey became scared of shooting her first-ever intimate scenes (via Newsweek). Carey, just 17 at the time she was cast, was scripted to engage in a simulated sex act with the 47-year-old actor Paddy Considine.

"There was a lot of preparation before shoot day," Lucia tells Deadline. "In the past, a director would say in the moment, 'yeah, you know what, actually, I think it's better if she takes her shirt off now,' or, 'actually, just go for it guys, see what happens.' You can't do that anymore." Carey was thankful for Lucia's work, telling Newsweek, "To be able to talk everything through and not be shunned, or not feel awkward ... was a massive help and on set she was a massive help."

HBO is far from where it started when it comes to intimacy, but Lucia keeps a clear head about how there are always vulnerable individuals to watch out for in her line of work. She tells Deadline, "I am acutely aware that young men often are just as nervous, and wary, and not sure about trusting what's being asked of them. So, I try and remember that."