INTIMACY ON SET — PLAYING IT SAFE
Many actors approach physical intimacy on set with a sense of dread. HBO’s Alicia Rodis is among the specially trained coordinators diffusing these feelings by coaching actors in how to approach the scene safely and advocating on their behalf.
When Alicia Rodis worked as a stunt performer in the US there was always an expert involved to ensure getting the shot was done safely.
“It was usually a stunt coordinator telling me exactly what would be happening on the day: ‘It’s a 10-foot fall. This is how we are going to be doing it. This is what you’ll be wearing.’ When things changed, say, after locations, and it turned out to be a 12-foot fall, I was told ahead of time and there was a conversation about whether this was okay with me and how it would be done safely.”
But when it came to intimate scenes, which Rodis describes as “just another type of high-risk or hyper-exposed situation”, she would get little information about what was required of her, beyond: “You’re going to be nude and this is what the scene is going to be.”
In 2016, Rodis co-founded the New York-based, not-for-profit Intimacy Directors International (IDI). She became HBO’s first intimacy coordinator in 2018, when actor Emily Meade, who plays porn star Lori in The Deuce, requested someone on set to help her with the sex scenes.
“It’s not the things [she does] that are so radical,” Meade told Rolling Stone. “It’s just having someone other than yourself to think about it.”
As well as the practical side of things — ensuring actors are made aware of sex scenes or changes to them ahead of time, discussing their boundaries with producers and directors, ensuring they are properly covered up during and between scenes, and guaranteeing a closed set — Rodis also helps actors approach the physicality of the scenes differently.
“She understands how to help us choreograph things to make them look more real than they are, by sometimes doing something less real,” Meade says.
“Left to your own devices, you’re just sort of doing what you do in real life. And that’s a problem if you don’t want it to feel like real life.”
“Directors often absolutely think they are doing the right thing by saying, ‘I’ll leave this part up to you; handle it however you like’,” says Rodis. “But consent can only be given when an actor knows what is being asked of them.”
The Deuce’s showrunner, David Simons, found Rodis’s approach so positive that he said he would never again work without an intimacy coordinator. HBO have since introduced a policy that none of their productions involving intimate scenes will be made without a coordinator — Rodis or someone trained or vetted by her.
Despite HBO’s public backing, Rodis says there’s still some scepticism about the need for intimacy coordinators, and misconceptions about what the role is or isn’t. “There’s usually one person on set who is unsure and gives me a lot of resistance. What people realise pretty quickly is that this is a better process — not just because it means there’s an advocate for actors in very vulnerable situations, but also because it is a much more efficient and positive way to work through scenes. It will save time and money. It can help prevent lawsuits. It will create more consistency. Issues are addressed in advance, so everyone’s on the same page.”
Rodis now has an exclusive contract with HBO, overseeing the dozen or so intimacy coordinators they employ globally and being one herself on many of their shows.
“I have been blown away by HBO,” she says. “Even as we were working out my contract, I told them we needed to train more people, which could involve them working on sets other than at HBO, and they said, ‘We know this is the right thing to do and we know we are doing a service to the industry’.”
Among those Rodis is training is Australian Nigel Poulton, a fight director, stunt actor, and weapon and movement specialist. “Initially, I wasn’t so sure we needed someone to specifically deal with this work,” he says. “The more I spoke with Alicia and saw what she was doing, the more I realised how wrong I was. We absolutely need someone who sits outside of the power dynamic, as much as they possibly can, and is an advocate for the actor and specially trained to work in this area.”
Poulton was formally accepted into the IDI’s apprenticeship program two years ago (you need to be invited to apply and not everyone is accepted). He describes the training as “incredibly immersive”, involving mental-health first aid, gender and sexual-diversity training, bystander intervention and personal mentorship from Rodis via regular Skype sessions.
In 2019, Poulton furthered his training by spending three months in the US shadowing Rodis at work. “It’s firstly about establishing a relationship with the actors in pre-production, so they understand exactly what’s being asked of them and why,” he says. “By and large, actors are willing to do intimate work, but they don’t want to be surprised by anything.”
Poulton is among a group of Australian artists developing Equity Australia’s first Intimacy Guidelines for scenes that involve nudity, semi-nudity, intimacy, simulated sexual activity and sexual violence. Once finalised, with industry-wide endorsement — expected to be in early 2020 — they will be used for all stage and screen productions in Australia.
Most conversations Poulton has had with Australian producers and directors since his return from the US have been overwhelmingly positive. If there’s a perceived negative, he says, it’s that the choreography will in some way inhibit creativity.
“That’s a common misconception,” says actor and qualified intimacy coordinator Michala Banas, who has been trained and mentored by UK-based Ita O’Brien, the intimacy coordinator for HBO’s Sex Education among other titles. “Of course, there can still be freedom. Some actors and directors like scenes to be specifically choreographed and some don’t. Either way, it’s about having clarity around each actors’ boundaries, and giving them autonomy over their bodies, so it’s clear what they are okay with and what they aren’t.”
For Banas discovering O’Brien’s Intimacy on Set Guidelines and subsequently training with her — firstly, at Equity Foundation workshops in Australia and then in London in 2019 — has been a revelation.
“I think, like most actors, I’ve had my share of negative experiences, which far outweigh the positives. I just thought it was always awful — uncomfortable, unpleasant or awkward. For someone to say, ‘We can do this better and here’s how’ was quite amazing.”
Banas says that as an actor, O’Brien’s process allowed her to stay in character while doing intimate work for the first time in her career. “Every other time, I’d been trying to make it less awkward, usually with humour. There’s nothing wrong with that. We all use humour to diffuse situations and to make things seem less weird or uncomfortable. But you spend so much time trying to make it okay that when you get to performing the scene, you’re not in character any more. You’re just trying to get through it.”
It’s not only female actors who benefit from clear protocols and the guidance of an intimacy coordinator, says Banas. “I’ve had many, many conversations with male actors who’ve told me how difficult these scenes can be, particularly if the director says, ‘Just do what you like with this part of the scene’, or the female co-star says, ‘I’m fine with whatever you want to do’.”
Banas co-runs The KIN Collective, an independent theatre company in Melbourne, and knows firsthand that budgets don’t always allow for an intimacy coordinator. “We can only just afford to pay our actors Equity minimums, so until Equity’s guidelines come out, Ita O’Brien’s succinct guidelines on her website [intimacyonset.com] are available to everyone.
“I think the first, most important thing for an actor is to talk to your director and other cast members about the moment of intimacy you’re going to be performing. Ask for specificity from the director and then be really clear about your boundaries and no-go areas, with the director and fellow actor. And then, when it comes to rehearsing the work, always have a third party present — even an actor friend — because that helps to keep it professional.”
For the last five years, Equity New Zealand president Jennifer Ward-Lealand has been championing change when it comes to intimacy and nudity. “Back in 2015, Equity held a Green Room event for members because we kept hearing, anecdotally, so many stories about bad experiences, either in auditions or on set,” she says.
“The Green Room was packed with actors of all ages and professional backgrounds. There were far too many negative experiences. We knew we needed to turn things around.”
In the wake of the Green Room event, Equity New Zealand introduced some of the world’s first intimacy-on-set guidelines, which Ita O’Brien subsequently drew on to create hers. The NZ guidelines are being updated and expanded for NZ actors for release in 2020.
Ward-Lealand has also trained extensively with and is mentored by O’Brien to become a qualified coordinator. “It’s about the character’s sexuality or intimate moment, not the actor’s,” she says. “An intimacy coordinator just professionalises the whole process.”
“The reality is, I don’t know one woman in this industry who hasn’t been harassed at some point in their lives,” concludes Rodis. “A big part of what intimacy coordinators are trying to do is redress a major power imbalance. We’re just saying, ‘Let’s make things a conversation, not an assumption’.”
Lizzie Franks is the editor of The Equity Magazine. This article was originally published in the 2019 Equity Yearbook.
Equity is a community of performers working together to build an vibrant, diverse industry that operates with creativity and professionalism.
If you are a professional performer, you are Equity.
