This is a guest post by Kim Wilson.
You see it all the time, actors kissing passionately on screen. It looks like they really mean it. But have you ever thought about what it is like for them – the first time they have to conjure that passion in a roomful of cameras, equipment, and onlookers?
For me, what started as sheer terror at the thought of my upcoming sex scene for my latest film, Cleave, actually turned out to be not as scary as I thought, AND… okay, I’ll admit it—it was even a little bit hot. When I helped write this film, I didn’t know I’d be cast in it. Only in the preparation for the scene did I chastise myself for writing a sex scene: What. Was. I. Thinking?!
Even my own mother asked what it was going to be like. In the weeks prior to filming, I searched the internet incessantly on what to expect. Most searches ended up taking me to porn sites, which I can say definitely did NOT help my self-confidence. I needed something to draw from, something to ease the irrational fears bouncing around in my head. It was all-consuming. It terrorized me hourly.
I was anticipating the worst: bad kissing, missed queues, awkward touching. Sometimes I would have to pull over on the side of the road flushed with anxiety, beads of sweat pooling on my upper lip, trying to catch my breath in a panic. Could I really pull this off? My mind manically raced. What if my partner is dreading kissing ME? After multiple (hundreds of) calls to my acting coach and a few hundred self affirmations I found on YouTube, I finally convinced myself that I would get through this with flying colors because, after all, I am a goddamn professional.
My acting partner and I met before our scene. This was a good thing. Even though we knew each other already, it was nice to remember he was an actual human being and not this sex demi-god I had made him out to be in my head. And, what I realized immediately was that this meeting was imperative. If any of you reading this are actors and you have a racy scene coming up heed this one piece of advice: You must trust your partner implicitly in a scene like this. They have to have your back. Your vulnerability is just out there flapping in the wind for the world to see. And by god, we were going to fly high in that windstorm. How do you develop that trust?
COMMUNICATION
We both agreed we wanted the scene to be authentic as possible. No robot kissing, but to be “in the moment “ and authentic. And that meant really allowing us to lose ourselves in each other. Gulp. We discussed our boundaries in detail: “Yes, you can feel me up.” (That’s an actual quote.) And while we awkwardly laughed at ourselves during these conversations, it really helped us feel just a wee bit more comfortable. On the day of filming, I was still terrified. I don’t know exactly where my head was, but between my mantras and my power posing, I decided to wear sweatpants to set. Hideous sweatpants. Old sweatpants. I have no idea why I wore sweatpants. I must have thought that I would come off as “casually cool” and “I’m totally okay with this scene that’s about to happen–see? I’m sooooo comfortable.” Yeah. My “day after thanksgiving” outfit might not have been the best way for me to communicate to the crew and my scene partner “I’m ready to get sexy!” One hour before our call time, I had already had the self-talk in the bathroom before the scene – you know the one I’m talking about: the “pull your shit together” talk in the stall.
It’s YOU and HIM (or HER)
My partner and I are in our places. We stand facing each other inches apart. It’s literally minutes until the director calls “action.” I can tell he is nervous. He can tell I am too. All of a sudden, this wonderful thing happens: we comfort each other. I stroked his arms. He stroked my neck. I reached for his shoulders, he reached for my back. This touching was actually calming us down. It was helping prepare us mentally and er…physically for the impending scene. There were new beads of sweat forming on my lip now. “Action!” the director called out. We lean in and we kiss. It was effortless. I was surprised. Best of all, it was authentic. We had built our own little world of intimacy.
As the scene unfolded it went from kissing into more passionate stuff that became less and less awkward. Even when the director called out, “OK, now arch your back here” and “drag your hand there,” it felt effortless. Yes, think about that for a moment. Someone calling out your next sex move as you’re in the throws of passion in a strange bar. Believe it or not, it was a relief. What could have been robotic and canned, felt natural and easy. I trusted my partner and he trusted me. And I admit, there were mortifying moments as well, such as being taken aside discreetly and told my breathing was too loud during the sex scene. Yeah. That happened. (That could be my new all-time low.) But it’s proven one of the funniest stories I can pull from my hat at parties lately, so I’ve got that going for me. You learn a lot from fake sex. I am not particularly looking forward to seeing myself on screen and thinking to my horror, “I make THAT face?” Fingers crossed I will be able to use it at parties soon as well.
SUPPORT MATTERS MOST
Looking back, I realize one of the biggest reasons that I felt comfortable on set besides my partner was the incredibly gracious crew who didn’t laugh or make eye contact (thank god) with me during those scenes. Our director had set the stage for all of us, having all of our best interests and safety as her priority. She was the one that was responsible for the mood, the tone and the professionalism. She met with the crew beforehand, giving them strict instructions on her high expectations during each take. She met with my partner and me before the scene to assess our comfort levels and allow us to express any concerns. The fact she was a woman was a huge comfort to me. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without her support as well.
What I learned most of all, was that acting wasn’t so much about myself as it was about the other person. My partner and I learned how to put each other at ease, how to work together as a team to “give and receive” from the each other and how to turn our mortification into laughter. I am forever grateful to the director, crew and to my acting partner.
So, did I use my tongue in my kissing scene? I’ll never tell.
To learn more about Kim Wilson and the film Cleave, visit the following sites:
http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/cleave-0
Twitter: @whatsyourlceave
Instagram: Whatsyourcleave