When people talk about a film during awards season, they usually talk about the performances, the directing, the writing, or the big emotional moments that stay with them after the credits roll.

What they do not always talk about is how those moments were built.

The truth is, intimate scenes do not just happen. A kiss that feels charged, awkward, tender, heartbreaking, or electric on screen usually comes from a lot of thought and a lot of structure behind the scenes. There is conversation, planning and choreography. And more and more often, there is an Intimacy Coordinator helping hold that process together.

That is part of what this post is about.

This year’s Oscar-nominated films included work shaped by intimacy professionals whose job is to help create safer, clearer, more supported conditions for intimate storytelling. Their work makes space for actors to focus on performance, while helping productions approach intimate material with professionalism and care.

That matters because intimate storytelling is not separate from filmmaking craft. It is filmmaking craft.

A kiss scene is still blocking. It is still storytelling. It is still about tone, pacing, character, camera, and performance. It still needs to be prepared. And like any other moment that asks a lot from actors, it deserves a process that is specific, respectful, and clear.

We couldn’t be prouder of the Intimacy Coordinators helping create some of the last year’s most celebrated intimate storytelling on screen. Congratulations to:

• Michael Arnold for intimacy coordination on One Battle After Another. IYKYK, those moments had me holding my breath.

• Amanda Peek for intimacy coordination on Sinners. The tension between Stack and Mary? Unreal.

• Louise Kempton for intimacy coordination on Bugonia. Such a strange, vulnerable reminder of what it means to be human.

• Vanessa Coffey for intimacy coordination on Frankenstein. So much innocence and tenderness there.

• Miriam Lucia for intimacy coordination on Hamnet. Heartbreaking, full stop.

• Amy Northup and Lizzy Talbot for intimacy coordination on Marty Supreme. You can feel the control and detail in the work

What stands out is how many different kinds of stories intimacy professionals are helping shape. The work is showing up in films that are tender, unsettling, sexy, devastating, strange, and deeply human. That range matters because intimacy coordination is not about one type of scene or one type of film. It is about helping create a clear, grounded process for vulnerable work, whatever form that takes on screen.

Sometimes the job is helping shape a kiss. Sometimes it is helping actors navigate nudity or simulated sex. Sometimes it is working through physical boundaries, story beats, wardrobe logistics, modesty garments, camera angles, or the emotional shape of a scene. Sometimes the best intimacy work is the thing no one notices because it made the work feel grounded, seamless, and fully supported.

When intimacy work is done well, the audience is not sitting there thinking about process. They are watching the story. They are inside the moment. But that does not mean the process was simple. It usually means the process was strong. And that visibility of the creatives making that happen is important.

Seeing Intimacy Coordinators attached to major films helps push back against the old idea that intimate scenes should be left vague, improvised, or figured out in the moment. It reminds people that these scenes deserve preparation, just like stunts, fights, dance, or any other moment where story and physical action meet.

At CINTIMA, that is something we care deeply about.

We believe intimate scenes deserve the same rigor as any other part of production. We believe actors deserve clear communication and strong support. We believe consent and choreography belong in the same conversation as camera and storytelling. And we believe the growing visibility of intimacy professionals across major films is a sign of an industry continuing to grow up.

Not by becoming less creative, but by getting better at process.

So when you watch an intimate scene that feels specific and alive, it is worth remembering that there is usually more behind it than people see.