'No tongues': My life as a screen intimacy director
When Michaela Coel accepted her Bafta for best leading actress this week, she decided to highlight the importance of something too long overlooked by the entertainment industry. “I know what it's like to shoot without an intimacy director – the messy, embarrassing feeling for the crew, the internal devastation for the actor,” she said, dedicating her prize to me, the intimacy director for her award-winning BBC drama about sexual consent, I May Destroy You.
It goes without saying that I felt incredibly honoured on a personal level. But more than this, I was grateful for the message the supremely talented Coel conveyed to the industry: that when you put a process in place that allows all – from producer and director to actor, first assistant director, director of photography and boom operator – to engage with the intimate content in a professional way, you inherently protect the actors involved in intimate scenes. You get actors who can stand proudly behind their work, having felt listened to and empowered. Not to mention being able to achieve so much more with that scene.
We need to think of the set as a workplace akin to an office. Expectations should be similar when it comes to following due process. I drew up the Intimacy On Set Guidelines as a best practice guide for the industry in 2017, for theatre, TV and film production. It goes right from the start of the process with producers, into the engagement with casting directors and agents in the auditioning process, right through to the production. For instance, areas of physical touch should be agreed on in advance; no simulated sex scene with the inference of nudity should involve naked genitalia touching (the actors should always wear a genitalia covering); when kissing, no use of tongues as standard practice, unless the director requires it and both actors agree. And so on. It’s a comprehensive list, designed to eliminate the kind of grey areas into which too many unacceptable practices creep.
In countless productions, actors who have felt uncomfortable have only been able to speak out after the event, if at all. Kate Winslet has said she regrets showing “so much flesh” in Titanic; Sharon Stone has spoken of her anger about the famous Basic Instinct leg-crossing scene, for which she says she did not give permission; and Ruth Wilson left The Affair because of “too many sex scenes”.
Many others have kept their counsel, too afraid of the career repercussions. One actress told me she felt frightened to come forward and speak to producers about her discomfort arising from the behaviour of someone on set, as the perpetrator was himself one of the producers. Still today, the fear of repercussions from speaking out is even greater than the abuse suffered. But I, and others, are trying to change that, and it starts with having someone on set to choreograph intimate scenes and make sure everyone’s happy with them. Consent is fundamental and the aim is that everyone is listened to and heard.
I have worked on shows including The Pursuit of Love, It’s A Sin, Sex Education, The Dig, Behind Her Eyes and Normal People and the key imperatives are usually the same. I speak to the director and ask what they want from the scene in question. I speak to the actors and ask about their concerns. I check in with the wardrobe department and make sure that if there’s any nudity, protocols are followed. I check in with the first assistant director, regarding a respectfully held closed set, with the minimal number of crew present. I make sure there’s a “time out” word in place to allow actors to halt the action.
Rehearsals should be explored fully clothed. Actors should be completely happy with the intimate content, which should serve a narrative purpose and not be gratuitous. Only once the actors are happy should you then invite in the crew.
By liaising properly with everyone, you can ensure the director’s vision is served while avoiding any concerns among the actors. They are professionals doing a job – something not every director has always respected. They should not be required to bring their personal and private intimate expression into a sex scene, but to consider the intimate expression of this character, in this relationship, depicting this intimate moment.
But this can require extra input from experts. You wouldn’t shoot a fight scene without bringing in a fight director or stunt coordinator who could teach the actors how to throw a punch safely. The risk of injury is just as great if you shoot a sex scene without bringing in an expert to choreograph it, with the addition that, in an intimate scene, when your body is touched or nudity is required, the potential resulting injury can be not just physical but emotional and psychological, resulting in what Coel described as “the internal devastation for the actor”.
We’re making progress here but it has been slow. Following the very public outcry over Harvey Weinstein, there has been more awareness of the need to protect actors from abuse as we would members of other professions. But the recent string of sexual harassment allegations made against people in the industry suggest there is further to go. Directors, still, are not always welcoming of an intimacy coordinator on set. They may be opposed to us coming in and “taking over” at a sensitive moment. I’ve been on productions where the producer has said to me dismissively: “Oh, you’re here for the girl, right?”
The aim is not to dampen creativity; in fact it’s quite the opposite. When I worked on Gentleman Jack, we did our research to ensure the intimacy honoured the queer female community, by whom it was gratefully received. We did the same with the queer black community in I May Destroy You, ensuring gay sex scenes were authentic. When it doesn’t look right or convincing, it can alienate viewers from marginalised groups as well as failing to serve the production as a whole. It has to tell the right story. I was so proud of how we achieved the period sex scene in I May Destroy You, which captured on screen a rarely portrayed reality.
Television has been leading the way while theatre still lags behind. Across the industry as a whole, there remains a long distance to go. But, as the Time’s Up movement showed, vulnerable members of the acting profession have been expected to put up and shut up for long enough.
The critical praise for I May Destroy You shows what there is to be gained, not lost, when scenes of an intimate nature are made with proper consent.
As told to Rosa Silverman
