Louisa Connolly‑Burnham’s latest short, The Intimacy Coordinator, dives straight into one of the industry’s most charged conversations: the evolving role of intimacy professionals and the complex human stories that exist behind the job title.
Fresh from the acclaim of Sister Wives – longlisted for the Oscars, BAFTAs and BIFAs and now in feature development with American Zoetrope, Connolly‑Burnham returns with a darker, more provocative character study that examines addiction, power, trust and the fragile boundaries that shape on‑set intimacy work.
In this interview, she speaks candidly about building a compromised protagonist, directing herself through emotionally volatile material, and the surprising reactions that have emerged from festival audiences and industry figures alike.
What inspired this story and the discussion around intimacy coordination?
The initial idea came from a contradiction that I found fascinating: what if someone whose entire professional life is devoted to boundaries, consent and keeping other people safe was completely unable to maintain those boundaries within her own life? Intimacy coordination is still a relatively new and sometimes misunderstood role, and the conversation around it can become quite polarised. I wanted to explore that world through a dark, provocative character study about addiction, power and hypocrisy, rather than make a film that simply argued for or against the profession.
What do you think people misunderstand about intimacy coordinators, and how did you try to make the film challenge those ideas?
I think some people misunderstand intimacy coordinators as being there to sanitise sex scenes, remove spontaneity or interfere with the director’s vision. In reality, their job is to create clear boundaries and choreograph intimate material so that actors can work safely and confidently. At the beginning of the film, we see that Kate is genuinely excellent at her job. She is reassuring, attentive and protective of the actors, and she understands exactly what they need from her. The horror comes from watching her gradually abuse that position of trust, not from the profession itself. Kate is a corrupted individual operating within an important and necessary role.
Kate is capable yet deeply compromised. How did you develop the character?
That contradiction was the key to Kate. I didn’t want her to be incompetent or visibly dangerous from the beginning, because that would make her too easy to dismiss. She is intelligent, warm and exceptionally capable, but she is also living with a compulsion that has begun to consume every part of her life. Her work places her in constant proximity to the very thing she is addicted to, which makes her professional environment both a source of control and an enormous trigger. I was also interested in her loneliness and the shame beneath her behaviour. We see her attempt to ask her mother for help, attend recovery meetings and recognise that she is spiralling, but she repeatedly sabotages every opportunity for change. I wanted the audience to feel some empathy for her while never excusing the harm she causes.
What was the primary challenge in directing yourself in the film?
The greatest challenge was maintaining enough distance from Kate to judge whether her gradual transformation was landing correctly. Her journey moves from warm, reassuring professionalism into something predatory and ultimately monstrous, but that shift needed to happen incrementally. While performing, I had to remain emotionally immersed in her compulsions and shame; as the director, I needed to step outside of that and assess the overall rhythm, tone and clarity of the story. Because the material was physically and emotionally vulnerable, trust was essential. I relied enormously on my producers, cinematographer, intimacy coordinator and the other actors to be honest with me and help create an environment in which I could move safely between both roles.
What role did your producers play in shaping the film’s tone?
My producers, Benjamin Jacob Smith and Roxane Bourges, were instrumental in protecting the very specific tonal balance of the film. The story moves between psychological thriller, uncomfortable comedy, sexuality, shame and sudden violence, so it could easily have tipped too far in any one direction. They were brilliant creative sounding boards throughout development and production, always helping me interrogate whether a moment felt truthful and whether we were preserving the darkness without losing the humanity or humour. They also created the practical and emotional structure that allowed me to direct and perform simultaneously. Having producers who completely understood the film and trusted its boldness gave me the confidence to take risks.
How did the success of Sister Wives influence your confidence or ambition for The Intimacy Coordinator?
The response to Sister Wives taught me that audiences are willing to engage with complicated women, morally uncomfortable choices and stories that refuse to explain everything neatly. Its success gave me the confidence to trust my instincts and push further into the darker, more provocative territory that naturally excites me. It also made me more ambitious about the scale and craft of The Intimacy Coordinator. I wanted to build on everything I had learned and create something formally bolder, more psychologically unsettling and less concerned with making its central character likeable.
What most excites you about developing the feature version of Sister Wives?
I’m most excited by the opportunity to expand the world beyond the central relationship and explore the community, belief system and family dynamics surrounding these women in much greater depth. The short captures one emotionally explosive moment, but the feature allows us to understand how Kaidence and Galilee arrived there, what they stand to lose and how difficult it is to imagine freedom when you have been raised inside a closed system. At its heart, it is a sweeping and unconventional love story about two women attempting to choose one another in a world designed to deny them that choice. The feature gives that story the scale, danger and emotional complexity I have always imagined for it.
Which reactions have surprised you from festival audiences or industry figures?
I’ve been surprised and delighted by how strongly audiences respond to the film’s very dark humour. People often laugh at moments I worried might be too uncomfortable, particularly as Kate’s carefully controlled façade begins to collapse. That laughter creates a fascinating tension because the audience can suddenly find itself entertained by someone whose behaviour is becoming increasingly indefensible. I’ve also been struck by how divided people are in their feelings towards Kate. Some viewers feel enormous compassion for her addiction and loneliness, while others are horrified by her abuse of power. The most interesting conversations happen when people feel both things at once. Industry responses have also reassured me that the film’s difficult subject matter is not a barrier; in many cases, it is precisely what people find exciting about it.
How do you hope viewers feel when they watch your films?
I want viewers to feel emotionally implicated rather than comfortably detached. I’m drawn to desire, secrecy, shame, power and the parts of human behaviour we don’t always want to admit exist. I hope my films are beautiful and entertaining, but also leave people unsettled, conflicted and still thinking about the characters afterwards I’m less interested in telling an audience exactly what to feel than in creating space for contradictory reactions. If viewers leave debating whether they understood, loved, feared or despised a character, then the film has remained alive beyond the screen.
