In Hollywood, the intimacy coordinator has become a cultural lightning rod. Do they protect actors or stifle them?

By Lizzie Mettler

The opening minutes of an episode of Off Campus play like a logistical marathon: hands on abs, clothes peeled off in stages, synchronized breathing, simulated oral sex and digital penetration, interlocked fingers, her legs wrapped around his waist, his bare backside framed from above, then a tumble off the bed. The series, which premiered in May, arrives at a moment when audiences appear newly ravenous for soft-core sex set against the glow of hockey arenas, a demand supercharged by Heated Rivalry. Notably absent in the steamy show are bare breasts and full-frontal nudity. Also invisible is the intimacy coordinator, who orchestrates the mechanics of the scenes while remaining mindful of the actors’ physical and emotional boundaries. READ ON