Let’s talk about safe sets: North Texas intimacy coordinators discuss consent, boundaries
Listen to the story's audio here: As a director, J. Austin Eyer wants to give agency to his actors and stay aware of the power dynamics he has over them. As a UTA assistant professor and head of musical theater, Eyer wants to empower his students' ability to reject discomfort during intimate scenes to promote their autonomy in saying no to acting partners or anyone on set. To support their freedom to change boundaries by the day — or by the minute. Enter: This is where intimacy coordinators for film and intimacy directors for theater come in. Intimacy coordinators serve as “an advocate, a liaison between actors and production” regarding nudity and simulated sex or other intimate and hyper-exposed scenes, as defined by the Screen Actors Guild – American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. Jamie Pringle, UTA alumna and current theater professional, began intimacy coordinator training about three years ago through her connection with Laura Rikard, a director, SAG-AFTRA member and co-founder of Theatrical Intimacy Education. “We’re there to make sure everybody in the room is not having harm done to them because of past trauma or because of not feeling like they could stand up for themselves, or power dynamics or things like that,” Pringle said. About a decade ago, Rikard began intimacy coordination work after acting and exploring different career paths. Her intimacy coordinator credits include the 2022 TV series “Interview with the Vampire” and “Ramy” and the 2024 movie Mothers’ Instinct. Although the role’s title is new, intimacy coordination isn’t, Rikard said. Costume designers and fight coordinators have been bridging the gap between what a director wants and what an actor is willing to do. In 2017, the #MeToo movement gained prominence in Hollywood, marking a change in the entertainment industry, where stories of shame, confusion and, at times, assault have been shared in worldwide theaters and TV/movie sets. The following year, HBO became the first network to commit to hiring intimacy coordinators. Movies and TV shows soon followed by crediting their intimacy coordinators. ‘How do you feel about that?’ When Eyer directed On the Town on campus last November, he provided disclosure forms detailing scenes that included intimacy before casting to prepare his actors before callbacks. During rehearsals, Eyer carefully choreographed kissing scenes down to the seconds. “One of the biggest things that I learned to do going into this process was, ‘Do not be afraid to ask questions’ because there are things that can be discussed,” said musical theater junior Nicole Giddens, who portrayed Hildy in the production. Before her audition, Giddens was asked about boundaries from her wardrobe to hypothetical intimate acts with her acting partner. Consent can change throughout the production process, she said. Some days, she felt confident, and other days, she harbored insecurities that compelled her to put up boundaries she may not have had previously. Giddens and her acting partner rehearsed intimate scenes for about a month before trying to figure out the timing and counts. As rehearsals progressed, they would inject more authenticity into their intimate acts, adding a natural flow to the performance. “There's choreography, so we're not gonna play around and figure out what it is,” Eyer said. “I'm gonna say, ‘Here's what I have in my mind, and here's what I'm seeing.’ And then the question is, ‘How do you feel about that?’” As an intimacy director, Pringle typically attends first rehearsals to introduce herself. Her depth of involvement can range from a few hours for one or two scenes to multiple days of rehearsal depending on how much intimacy is included in a production. Another layer of Pringle’s intimacy coordination involves working with young actors. She understands the responsibility and possibility that she may be the first person to discuss consent and boundaries in a theater context with groups like this. And when it comes to children, whatever their parents say goes. “If I had a kiss in Romeo and Juliet, and I had a student whose parent said, ‘I don't want them to kiss on stage.’ That's fine. I'm a good director, and I'm going to find a way to convey some vulnerability and convey that love between the two of them,” Pringle said. Rikard said her experience as an actor, acting teacher and theatrical director all taught her different perspectives of working on set while building her confidence as an intimacy coordinator. She has learned various methods that honor the actors' individual processes while staying true to the storyline. Modest garments, different lighting and using multiple props are all ways of achieving this purpose. “There's nothing we can put on stage that's as powerful as what we can put into the audience's imagination,” Rikard said. ‘We’re not the police’ Despite the impact of this emerging role in the industry, many involved with films have preconceived ideas before working with intimacy coordinators. Sometimes, actors think intimacy coordinators or intimacy directors judge what is being performed. Pringle said that couldn’t be further from the truth. “We’re not the police,” Pringle said. Intimacy is not just sex. Coordinators and directors also have different conversations when productions may bring up an actor’s past. Once, in a production of “The Crucible,” Pringle recalled discussing religion with actors as the plot revolves around accusing women of witchcraft. Such conversations could potentially dredge up prior traumas and triggers, she said, but she reminded the actors that they aren’t required to disclose anything to her. Respecting boundaries goes both ways. She’s not a sex therapist. She’s not a mental health professional — nor does she want to be. She’s so not human resources. “If it's not happening on the set or in the play, I am not the person,” Pringle said. ‘Making films is not comfortable’ Rikard noted one of the biggest misconceptions about the purpose of intimacy coordinators is that they make sets “comfortable.” “Making films is not comfortable. Making theater is not comfortable. The whole point is to create stories that are about the most uncomfortable moments of characters' lives,” she said. “It's never comfortable doing intimacy, even if you were doing it with the person you're married to on a film set or in a theater.” Rikard’s job focuses on helping people work through productive discomfort — while still working within their boundaries. Each actor's process is different, so Rikard sometimes has to remind those with more power and privilege that they may need to slow down to accommodate their less experienced acting partner. Pairs on set may have a large discrepancy in experience and comfort and Rikard is there to bridge that gap. The goal, she said, is for everyone to be their best selves to achieve the best product. Sometimes, recasting does happen — and that’s OK, Pringle said. “Not every show is for every person. If they have values and morals that do not line up with what that character does, then maybe that's not the show for them,” she said. “But it is best to have these conversations before they have a contract.” Instances of filmmakers worldwide abusing their power to take advantage of simulated scenes have been apparent. In December 2019, The Hollywood Reporter revealed actor Ruth Wilson left Showtime’s ‘‘The Affair’’ partly because of how the show handled sex scenes and ignored her objections. As a result, the network hired an intimacy coordinator for the show’s final season. After the release of the 2013 film Blue Is the Warmest Colour, lead actors Léa Seydoux and Adèle Exarchopoulos spoke about feeling ‘‘horrible’’ and ‘‘manipulated’’ during shooting, where they spent days devoted to creating satisfactory performances of simulated sex. In the theater world, the respected nonunion Chicago theater company Profiles closed in 2016 after The Chicago Reader reported a widely known, 20-year pattern of abuse by its artistic director that included sexual harassment of actors during intimate scenes. Rikard is aware of the industry’s reputation of appearing to force actors to do things they don’t want to do. But she said, despite these horror stories, most sets aren't rife with abuse. “It's actually the opposite,” she said. “This is a joyful industry. This is an industry of really wonderful people who love to collaborate and who are there for each other. And most days it's really positive.” Then, why are intimacy coordinators hired? They’re there to help make collaboration smoother among all the people involved in a project, injecting joy and efficiency into the process, Rikard said. “A set should be safe, whether we are there or not,” she said. ‘If they don't want you there, it's not a fun day’ Intimacy coordinators aren't always considered a welcomed necessity. Actor Mikey Madison, who plays a sex worker in 2024 film Anora, told fellow actor Pamela Anderson that she declined to have one on set and decided with her acting partner “to keep it small.” The decision was met with heavy discourse from intimacy coordinators and online film fans. Rikard understands this sentiment. Madison, 25, is an adult artist, and Rikard said she respects her right to define her work environment. “As an intimacy coordinator or choreographer, you have to really understand how much the actors want you in their process,” Rikard said. “And if you force yourself in a way that they don't want, that's kind of another violation of boundaries.” While Rikard appreciates networks like HBO or organizations like SAG-AFTRA suggesting having intimacy coordinators on every set, she maintains that if the production team and actors feel confident in supporting a consent-based process, then filmmakers don’t necessarily have to spend money to hire them. “You can only do this work as much as people are going to let you in the space to do your work, and if they don't want you there, it's not a fun day,” she said. “It's not a fun day to be on a set where you are hired, and you are really not needed or you're not wanted.” Eyer is happy about the industry opening up to intimacy coordinators. He supports the shift to a healthier dynamic among actors and directors that intimacy coordination now brings. “There are conversations that needed to be had 50 years ago that I think we’re finally having,” he said. “And I think it’s a good shift in the business, both in theater and in TV and film.” He knows some actors fully know their boundaries and can speak up for themselves. This work is not only for them. It’s for the director who changes their mind on a whim or hires actors who they’re attracted to. It’s for that young actor who just booked their first role — or has worked for years to land one. As a Broadway actor many years ago, Eyer didn't always have the choice to push back on directors’ requests that made him uncomfortable. Now, he has an opportunity to help young actors find their power. @DangHLe news-editor.shorthorn@uta.edu
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