Actors, Intimacy, and the Age of Consent
When I booked my first TV show as an actress, consent was the last thing on my mind. I was super excited, I was going to join the Screen Actors Guild (the performers’ union now know as SAG-AFTRA), I was going to get Health Insurance. And I was, quite frankly, terrified the producers might change their mind about me. Imposter Syndrome is no joke for all creatives, especially actors. I was much more concerned that the production might not be happy with my performance than any thought that they might ask me to do things I wouldn’t consent to.
A lot has changed since then, thanks in no small part to the brave silence breakers of the #MeToo movement. My kids can now recite the 5 tenets of consent — Freely Given, Reversible, Informed, Enthusiastic, and Specific, aka FRIES. They learned it at school. (This is not the sex ed we grew up with.)
Of those five very useful terms, “Enthusiastic” might be my favorite. Because sometimes talk about consent gets (understandably) uncomfortable. Under the looming shadow of harassment, assault, and trauma, we get nervous. We freeze up, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, triggering or being triggered. Ultimately we forget that we are talking about something that ideally is a lot of fun for everyone involved. That’s the idea anyway. Humans are sexual creatures. Consent means agreeing on things we imagine would be fun and feel good. Consent is sexy. That’s the whole entire point.
I recently became certified as an Intimacy Coordinator in film and television and I’ve been getting lots of questions lately about what an IC does. My website has a lot more info, especially the “Services” and “The Work” pages, but in a nutshell, the IC works to help keep the actors safe while helping the director achieve their creative vision.
The Intimacy Coordinator has been compared to a Stunt Coordinator for scenes with nudity or simulated sex, and I think that makes sense. The IC works with a lot of different teams that come together to make a believable scene. Actors, director, producers, legal department, costumes, makeup, visual effects, stunt team, body doubles, camera department, sound, possibly underage actors and their guardians, possibly post production… During this whole process, the IC makes sure the actors are emotionally, psychologically and physically safe, and makes sure SAG-AFTRA and closed set protocols are followed.
It all sounds very technical — and it is. Filmmaking is a technical process, especially when you have actors pretending to be doing something they’re not actually doing and you need it to look real. And especially when that something involves nudity, simulated sex, or simulated sexual violence. Like with a stunt scene, the Intimacy Coordinator is trained specifically in choreography and masking for the camera, in other words how to pull this off so it looks real and no one gets hurt.
Here is the thing — I know from experience how scary it can be to do these scenes as an actor. And I know that an actor can’t do their best work when half their brain is worrying about what’s going to happen. This is true for male performers as well as female and non-binary actors — so many men are understandably afraid of making a mistake. The IC has extensive training in communication and consent and is responsible for making sure everyone feels comfortable and clear about what they’re doing.
Here is the other thing — as an actor, I am much more likely to take risks and be vulnerable if I feel safe with my scene partner(s) and my crew. Or, as Kathryn Hahn said of working with an IC, “it made it feel like all the stuff was just handled so we could just focus on the scene. We knew that the partner was taken care of and felt safe and you could just walk on and feel completely comfortable and safe and good.”
Training for this was one of the most intense educational experiences of my life — it’s basically what I did with my quarantine year. Amanda Blumenthal, the first IC in Los Angeles and founder of Intimacy Professionals Association, led us through deep dives into gender and sexuality literacy; consent, boundaries and power dynamics; sexual harassment, microaggressions and bystander intervention; anti-racism training; communication and conflict negotiation; trauma awareness and mental health; SAG-AFTRA guidelines and nudity riders; modesty garments, barriers and prosthetics; cinematography and masking techniques; and incredibly intense and wonderful training in choreography and movement coaching for the screen. My cohort, IPA’s class of 2021, includes some of the most inspiring humans I have ever met.
If you haven’t already, check out what Steven L Sears wrote about what it was like to work in the days when we did these scenes without an IC — both as an actor and as a writer/ producer. I haven’t written about my experiences from those days… yet. I’ll get there. I have a lot to say.
In the meantime, I believe good storytelling can include stories about sexuality. And that we can tell these stories on screen in a way that is believable, intense, raw and passionate, or romantic and sweet, or disturbing and scary… without hurting the actors who are performing them. While empowering them.
As one colleague said, “It’s evolutionary stuff.” And I’m really honored to be part of it.
