The popularization of intimacy coordinators has been one of the most concrete effects of the Me Too era in film and TV. A few years after Ashley Judd, Jennifer Lawrence, and Gwyneth Paltrow spoke out about their experiences with sexual abusers and harassers like Harvey Weinstein, SAG-AFTRA announced an official plan for a new liaison position between actors and production — an “important safety net” for those involved in simulated sex scenes. These professionals couldn’t mitigate all of Hollywood’s ills, but they could at least make a set less vulnerable.
A number of stars and filmmakers, like Emma Stone and Karyn Kusama, have since praised coordinators for improving set atmospheres during intimate scenes. “Thank you for your existence in our industry, for making the space safe, for creating physical, emotional, and professional boundaries so that we can make work about exploitation, loss of respect, about the abuse of power without being exploited or abused in the process,” said Michaela Coel, who dedicated her BAFTA win for I May Destroy You to her intimacy coordinator Ita O’Brien. O’Brien was the first intimacy coordinator to appear on a set for Netflix’s Sex Education, pioneering a new presence on TV and film sets. At the time, she felt revolutionary. Now, it’s unclear whether the industry still feels this way.
In conversation with Vanity Fair ahead of her return to the big screen in this year’s Marty Supreme, Me Too figure Paltrow cast some doubt — deliberately or not — on the necessity of intimacy coordinators on set. “I don’t know how it is for kids who are starting out, but … if someone is like, ‘Okay, and then he’s going to put his hand here,’ I would feel, as an artist, very stifled by that,” she explained, also joking that she’s from an era in which “you get naked, you get in bed, the camera’s on.”
Paltrow’s comments echo some of her peers over the past year. Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey shared an intimacy coordinator for Luca Guadagnino’s Queer, though Craig said, “the two of us, we’re grown-ups. We knew what we wanted to achieve, and we had Luca guiding us.” Mikey Madison caught flack for saying there wasn’t an intimacy coordinator on Anora — an option presented to her by the filmmakers (Sean Baker, Samantha Quan, and Alex Coco) that she refused. That a coordinator was presented as a choice rather than a necessity, and that Madison refused, was seen as troubling evidence of possible misconduct in the weeks after by people online. While Babygirl director Halina Reijn said intimacy coordinators made it possible to shoot more “extreme sex scenes that look way more risky,” between Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson, others are questioning whether or not the position gets in the way of “authenticity,” making it the butt of jokes about the current industry (director Mia Hansen-Løve, for instance, referred to them as the “virtue police”).
In many ways, intimacy coordination doesn’t seem all that different from blocking, an essential part of any film or television shoot. Sex scenes require a specific sense of physical coordination that’s useful to have in place prior to calling action, to say nothing of those who do, in fact, feel more comfortable simulating sex with an advocate on set. But unlike cinematography or choreography, intimacy coordination is a relatively new profession, and though SAG outlined some guidelines in 2019, sets are still figuring out the rules for a role that emerged in a state of industry panic. Five years ago, there was little expectation that directors would employ an intimacy coordinator. Today, there can be knee-jerk horror when one of those potentially vulnerable people criticizes intimacy coordination at all. It’s not exactly surprising that Paltrow herself might be skeptical of the practice. In 2017, Paltrow was concerned with Weinstein’s behavior off movie sets — in surreptitious hotel-room meetings, during violent phone calls, at awards shows. Add into the equation that in more recent years the Goop CEO has been flirting with conservative ideas, speaking with vague optimism about RFK Jr.’s “Make America Healthy Again” efforts, and supporting former Republican mall magnate Rick Caruso.
As celebrities remain mum in the face of Trump’s erosion of governmental systems, or suddenly reveal fresh conservative opinions, any quote that casts doubt on the effectiveness of a Me Too–era concern can feel like a retreat for the whole industry. At the same time, the strain of policing that comes when female actors express their opinions about these positions, as seen with Madison’s comments and how it may have briefly impacted her Oscars run, feels counterproductive to the aims of a more progressive time, too. Conversations about intimacy coordination might go better if everyone acknowledges the evolving nature of the discourse.
But in the end, this is a position that shouldn’t be cast aside wholesale or seen as automatically disruptive and dismissive of the artistic process. And celebrities should know what is at risk for their peers when they cast doubt without context. Stars may feel safe, but that doesn’t mean that everyone feels safe, as many who have spoken up about mistreatment on set are extras, rather than top-billed talent. So if actors want to opt against intimacy coordinators, well, as Daniel Craig puts it, they’re grown-ups. But as we know, grown-ups can be capable of great harm.
