Wednesday, July 13, 2005

L-Word's Rachel Kelly Dishes on Sex Scenes

(Linky-pops to article) From her own diary, no less! Of course, pix are included.


LNewsEditor said...

JIC Post:

Excerpts from Rachel’s diary, published in The Guardian, when she began working in the second season (for the full version, log on to

My character is filthy rich, I wear vastly expensive clothes, fabulous jewellery, drive an Aston Martin and stay in the best places.

Yesterday we were about to shoot an “intimate” scene. I’m under my girlfriend’s dress, perilously close to her gusset, when my ex-wife walks in.

Needing help on this one, I asked our director, man to man, what I needed to convey when going down on a woman.

“When I’m down there, I know I’m gonna be there for a while, so I like to get real comfortable,” he says. “My toes may curl with the pleasure. Just imagine you’re sucking on a delicious piece of juicy, delicious gorgeous, sweet... sushi.” Sushi? Eww.

Most of my scenes are with the award-winning actress Laurel Holloman, with whom I immediately felt comfortable and relaxed. Which is just as well considering we’re about to get pretty naked together, albeit in the Chateau’s moonlit pool.

Sex scenes with actresses are easier than with men, they’re supportive and wouldn’t dream of over-stepping any lines of personal comfort.

Unlike some actors I could mention. Laurel is obviously pregnant at this stage and when I eventually undress her on camera for the first time in this carefully choreographed scene, the close proximity of another woman’s breasts, huge pregnant breasts at that, paralyses me momentarily.

I have no idea how to touch them! Then comes the director’s voice. “Um, Rachel? I need you to be more demonstrative and expressive in this next take, we really need to see Helena’s passion...” Gulp.

You see, it’s all very well talking on my mobile in some noisy bar in west London having late-night, slightly tiddly contract discussions with my “team” in LA, but those entertaining, “I haven’t even got the job yet” conversations about “three-second nipple shots” (what is that, a cocktail?) are so not funny when you’re swimming naked in a pool with an underwater camera following you.

But playing a lesbian isn’t so different from playing straight. I’ve played a whore, a doctor, an aristocrat lady, and believe me I’m none of those things either. I remember asking a newly lesbian friend if she missed sex with men as, once upon a time, I couldn’t really see it as anything but foreplay.

Turns out that’s quite a controversial subject among lesbians, with those using dildos sometimes viewed with the same disdain strict vegetarians might reserve for veggies who eat meat-flavoured products. This is what The L Word does to you — it allows you to discuss such matters publicly without turning crimson.

In my absence my reputation back home is changing. I’ve gone from wholesome to wild wickedness, from Mary Poppins to Heidi Fleiss.

For my birthday I received in the post hard-core lesbian porn mags and bling on a string when I’m more used to novels and sweatpants. Male friends can’t help but wink and exclaim “alwight, Rach!” when they hear what I’m doing. My boyfriend thinks it’s a real turn-on.

We have individual cast-director meetings before every episode, a kind of therapy session for the character.

“How do you feel about X? Why do you respond like Y? Does she really love Z?” And with each director reading from a different psychoanalytical school of thought, my character Helena and I can become rather confused.

Simultaneously, Helena and I are morphing into one person: I spend more time with her than anyone else these days, and it’s messing with my mind.

Paranoia also sets in near the end of the season — will the show be picked up for another series, and will that series include me? (The answers are “duh!” and “yes”, but I didn’t know that then.) I’m a newbie, they have me contracted for ever but it’s all at their discretion.

Every new script that arrives I’m half-expecting to read: “We watch as Helena’s car evaporates in the heat of the inferno, her only remains the solid silver ring bequeathed her by her father.”

Or: “Helena steps through the elevator doors... except the elevator isn’t there!” like they did to Joey’s actor character on Friends. The good news?

They rang months earlier than necessary to say the show, including me, would be back to Vancouver for our third season in June 2005. Where was I when they rang this time? Hot and dusty after a journey on a motorbike through Vietnam, about to run into the ocean to rinse off. With my boyfriend.

LNewsEditor said...

This just in...(Thanks, Badphairy!)

The L-Word's Karina Lombard (Marina)is the featured piece of cheesecake in Playboy's July pictorial. She's appearing as both "the butch" and "the femme" thanks to the magic of digital photography.