WHY INTIMACY COORDINATION MATTERS

By Sondos Shabayek

Intimate scenes are often among the most powerful moments in film and television. They reveal vulnerability, shift relationships, and carry enormous emotional weight within a story. But they are also some of the most complex scenes to stage. Without clear preparation and communication, these moments can create uncertainty for actors, tension for directors, and risk for productions.

Intimacy coordination provides a structured way to approach these scenes: with clarity, consent, and carefully designed choreography. When handled well, this process does not restrict creativity—it strengthens it. Actors know exactly what is expected of them. Directors can focus fully on storytelling and performance. Producers gain a clear framework that protects both performers and the production.

My path into this work grew out of my experience as a filmmaker and acting coach. For many years, my greatest passion has been working closely with actors—supporting their creative freedom, helping them access vulnerability, and building the conditions in which truthful performances can emerge.

At the same time, I became increasingly troubled by what I witnessed in the industry. Intimate scenes were often improvised on the spot, without clear agreements or preparation. Actors were expected to “go with it,” to remain professional, and to endure discomfort in silence. In some cases, this left performers feeling shaken, exposed, or mistrustful of intimate work altogether.

But the issue was not only what happened on set—it was also the images that resulted. Again and again, intimacy on screen seemed shaped by a narrow perspective, often filtered through what we call the male gaze. Audiences were invited to look at bodies rather than connect with characters—to consume rather than empathize.

I began asking myself how these dynamics could change: how intimate scenes could be created in ways that protect performers while allowing directors to tell complex, powerful stories.

A simple everyday experience helps illustrate how power dynamics can shape consent. Imagine sitting in a hairdresser’s chair and realizing that the haircut you are getting is not the one you asked for. Technically you agreed—but the situation makes it difficult to interrupt or negotiate. Many people recognize this feeling: going along with something because the structure of the situation makes saying no uncomfortable.

On a film set, those dynamics can be amplified by hierarchy, time pressure, contracts, and the authority of directors or producers. What appears to be consent may actually be shaped by pressure or uncertainty.

For me, becoming an intimacy coordinator was a way of stepping directly into that space and asking a different question: how can we create processes that replace silent endurance with clarity, agency, and choice?

Fear, Resistance, and What Changes in Practice

When productions first encounter intimacy coordination, there is sometimes hesitation. Some worry that the process will slow down the shoot, restrict creative freedom, or introduce unnecessary complexity.

I understand that concern—it often comes from unfamiliarity. Many productions initially imagine intimacy coordination as a form of control or censorship.

In practice, the experience is usually very different.

We begin by talking about the scene: its narrative purpose, emotional tone, and what the director wants the audience to feel. From there, we translate that intention into clear physical choreography. What touch is required? What is implied? What does the camera see? What is suggested rather than shown?

Together with the performers, we establish boundaries and consent agreements. We plan the choreography of the scene much like one would plan a stunt or fight sequence—step by step, with precision and rehearsal. This work follows established international best practices for intimacy coordination, ensuring that productions meet professional standards while maintaining creative flexibility.

Preparation often saves time rather than slowing a production down. When boundaries, choreography, and camera language are clarified in advance, productions avoid lengthy negotiations on set and intimate scenes can be filmed more efficiently.

This clarity tends to transform the atmosphere on set.

Actors feel more secure and therefore more able to take creative risks. Directors often find that preparation allows them to focus more fully on storytelling and performance. Producers benefit from a structured process that prevents misunderstandings and reduces potential conflicts before they arise.

By the end of many productions, people who were initially unsure about the role often say the same thing: they cannot imagine approaching intimate scenes without this process again.

Watching that shift—from hesitation to trust—is one of the most rewarding parts of the work.

What I Bring Into a Room

My approach to intimacy coordination is shaped by years of directing, acting coaching, and facilitating trauma-informed creative processes. I see the role not as an external supervisor, but as a creative collaborator working in service of the director’s vision.

In practical terms, this means supporting productions in several ways.

First, I help translate the emotional intention of a scene into clear physical choreography. Every movement is carefully planned and agreed upon so that performers know exactly what will happen and how it will be filmed.

Second, I facilitate open communication between actors, directors, and production. Establishing boundaries and expectations early in the process prevents confusion later on set.

Third, I support the logistical and ethical framework around intimate work: preparing actors beforehand, ensuring closed-set protocols are respected, and checking in with performers during and after demanding scenes.

These practices are not about limiting creativity—they are about creating the conditions in which creativity can thrive.

When actors feel protected and respected, they are more willing to explore vulnerability. When directors know that boundaries and logistics are clearly handled, they can focus on shaping the emotional and visual language of the scene. When productions have a structured process in place, they reduce the risk of misunderstandings and create a more efficient working environment.

I have applied this approach across international film and television productions, supporting directors, actors, and crews from diverse cultural backgrounds in creating intimate scenes that are both artistically precise and ethically grounded.

Changing the Process—and the Image

Ultimately, intimacy coordination is about more than managing difficult scenes. It is about rethinking how stories about sex, power, vulnerability, and violence are created.

I believe it is possible to tell complex and challenging stories without reproducing harm in the process of making them. Intimate scenes can be tender, political, unsettling, erotic, or confrontational—while still being created through clear agreements and mutual respect.

Changing the process behind the camera inevitably changes the images that reach audiences.

That belief is what led me to train as an intimacy coordinator. And it is what continues to guide my work today: helping productions create powerful, truthful scenes while ensuring that the people making them feel safe, respected, and supported.

Because when performers feel protected, they can take creative risks—and that is where the most honest and compelling performances begin.

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