Dismissing intimacy coordinators is a dangerous industry regression.
Recently, both Mikey Madison and Gwyneth Paltrow made public statements declining the use of an intimacy coordinator.
While every actor has the right to their own comfort level on set, dismissing these professionals outright is not just a personal choice—it sets a troubling precedent for the industry.
It raises the question: is rejecting an intimacy coordinator becoming a new “badge of honor” in Hollywood?
Is it a form of machismo, or even female toxicity, to suggest that real actors shouldn’t need guidance in one of the most vulnerable aspects of their craft?
In action films, we wouldn’t expect an actor to perform dangerous stunts without a coordinator ensuring their safety and the integrity of the scene.
Why, then, do some actors take pride in bypassing an intimacy professional, as though navigating simulated sex, nudity, and emotional vulnerability unaided makes them more legitimate performers?
The pushback against intimacy coordination feels eerily similar to outdated industry attitudes—where suffering for art is glorified, and where requesting structure, consent, and expertise is seen as a weakness rather than a professional necessity.
The role of intimacy coordinators is often misunderstood.
I believe we should view them not as hindrances, but as intimacy artists and experts who can elevate storytelling.
Not all directors are well-versed in crafting compelling, authentic love scenes. Not all actors, no matter how experienced, can anticipate the psychological and emotional toll that intimate performance can take. That’s why these professionals exist—not to sterilize creativity, but to enhance it.
In fact, we should regard intimacy coordinators the way we do cinematographers—as vital collaborators in the storytelling process.
Just as a cinematographer works alongside a director to shape the visual language of a film, an intimacy artist should be given space to flourish, helping refine the emotional and physical language of intimacy on screen. Their expertise should be valued, not dismissed as an inconvenience.
Intimacy is an art form, and like any other technical or creative aspect of filmmaking, it deserves the same level of thought, precision, and care.
History has shown us what happens when these safeguards are absent. One of the most harrowing examples is Maria Schneider, the young actress who starred in Last Tango in Paris (1972).
At just 19 years old, she endured a brutal, unscripted act of violation on camera—a betrayal by her director, Bernardo Bertolucci, and her co-star, Marlon Brando.
She was given no warning, no consent process, and no advocate to ensure her safety. The trauma followed her for the rest of her life.
She spoke openly about how that moment shaped her descent into drug addiction, mental health struggles, and a deep mistrust of the film industry.
She never fully recovered. She might still be here today if she had been protected—if she had an intimacy coordinator in her corner.
Intimacy coordination isn’t a trend—it’s an evolution.
It’s a necessary shift toward ethical filmmaking, where the human cost of performance is acknowledged and respected. Declining their presence for personal reasons is one thing.
But rejecting them as unnecessary or implying that “real actors” don’t need them only reinforces harmful industry practices that have left too many performers feeling exploited.
No actor should have to prove their worth by suffering for a scene. No film should sacrifice the well-being of its artists for the sake of authenticity. And no industry professional should forget the lessons of the past.
The presence of an intimacy coordinator isn’t just about comfort—it’s about survival.
If we continue to dismiss them, how many more Maria Schneiders will we allow to be broken in the name of art?
