This week, CityMag's resident sexologist looks at how the film 'Make It Look Real' explores the work of intimacy coordinators

In the evolving landscape of film and television, the role of an intimacy coordinator has emerged as a new but essential fixture on sets that involve sex scenes. The Australian documentary Make It Look Real, directed by Kate Blackmore, provides a raw, behind-the-scenes look at what it takes to create realistic and consensual intimacy on screen. Following Claire Warden, a pioneering intimacy coordinator, the documentary explores the nuanced and often misunderstood work of balancing creative direction with actor wellbeing in intimate scenes.

The rise of intimacy coordination is undeniably connected to the #MeToo movement, which spotlighted the need for safer work environments across industries, especially within film and television. As Blackmore noted, “I was just really surprised that there weren’t intimacy coordinators on film and TV sets.” Her intrigue at the absence of this role led her to explore the profession’s value and witness firsthand the significant impact it has on both the production and the performers.

Traditionally, the focus has been on safety during physically dangerous scenes involving stunts or violence, where a dedicated team ensures actors’ wellbeing. Until recently, however, the same level of care and support wasn’t extended to scenes of emotional or physical intimacy. Make It Look Real challenges the perception that intimacy is “just another part” of acting, instead emphasising that actors should have clear boundaries and support in situations that are uniquely vulnerable.

Central to Warden’s work is establishing a clear understanding of each actor’s boundaries, an idea that has long been absent from sets where actors were expected to “do whatever it takes” to bring a scene to life. As Blackmore explains, Make It Look Real captures the delicate balance of checking in with actors to ascertain their comfort level and communicating that with directors like Kieran Darcy Smith, who heads the fictional film Tightrope within the documentary.

A key insight from the film is that actors, regardless of experience, often haven’t been asked about their boundaries before, particularly for intimate scenes. Blackmore recalls one of the actors saying, “‘I’ve never been asked that before, but I think I’m up for anything,’” while another actor, Sarah, began with strict boundaries but, over time, felt more comfortable exploring her limits. This progression illustrates how the role of an intimacy coordinator creates a safe space for actors, empowering them to assert their comfort levels.

This is a crucial shift. In Blackmore’s words, “Actors are trained to say yes, to please, and to constantly give the director what they want.” This mentality can lead to a power imbalance, particularly in scenes requiring physical closeness. By having a dedicated advocate on set, actors no longer feel obligated to agree to anything they’re uncomfortable with, and the director’s creative vision can be pursued without compromising anyone’s sense of safety.

The concept of consent has become more central to conversations, not only within the film industry but across society. While on the surface, intimacy coordinators may appear as a niche role specific to entertainment, Blackmore sees it as part of a broader cultural necessity. “Even though they sort of live on a film set,” she says, “I think the discussions they can hold are really relevant across broader society.”

According to recent research, over 50 per cent of Australian adults struggle to understand the concept of consent fully. This statistic is a wake-up call, not just for those involved in filmmaking but for workplaces and institutions in general. As Blackmore pointed out, “There’s a big gap in adults’ understanding of consent, especially within the workplace.” In this way, the role of an intimacy coordinator serves as a reminder that clear communication and respect for boundaries are essential in all settings, not just on set.

The language of consent introduced through intimacy coordination could have ripple effects, promoting healthier and more respectful relationships across different environments. Just as workplace harassment policies have become stricter and more comprehensive, there is a growing recognition that consent-based practices should be embedded into various professional fields.

Despite its benefits, intimacy coordination is still a misunderstood role. Blackmore shares that some directors, especially those from older generations, perceive intimacy coordinators as interfering with their creative vision. This view misses the purpose of the role entirely. An intimacy coordinator’s job is not to impose limits on creativity but to ensure that everyone involved feels respected and safe. This facilitation often enhances the quality of performances, as actors are more willing to take emotional risks when they trust they’re in a supportive environment.

This trust-building process is a recurring theme in Make It Look Real, as Warden works closely with each actor to help them navigate unfamiliar territory. Watching Warden advocate for the actors shows the importance of an intermediary who understands both the director’s vision and the actors’ boundaries. In one instance, she even redesigned modesty garments and rewrote nudity riders to fit the actors’ comfort levels. Through this mediation, Make It Look Real illustrates that the presence of an intimacy coordinator doesn’t stifle creativity; instead, it enriches the entire production.

For Blackmore, creating a realistic representation of intimacy on screen requires a careful blend of empathy, respect, and openness. The scenes in Tightrope are not about fulfilling audience expectations or sensationalism; they are part of a larger narrative requiring sensitivity and authenticity. By prioritising safety, intimacy coordinators enable actors to immerse themselves fully in their roles without fear of crossing personal boundaries.

As intimacy coordination becomes more common, Make It Look Real invites us to see beyond the job title and appreciate the role’s value in promoting respectful relationships and nuanced performances. Blackmore’s documentary reminds us that film and television have the power to reflect real-life complexities, including healthy boundaries and consent. With intimacy coordinators like Warden leading the way, the industry can continue evolving, offering audiences an honest portrayal of one of the most fundamental aspects of human experience, intimacy.

The next viewing of the film is on as a part of the Adelaide Film Festival on November 3, get tickets here.

Stay safe, and stay sexy.