Revisiting the golden age of celebrity sex tapes

We’ve been talking a lot about sex tapes lately. Last week, Gawker appealed the jury’s decision to award Hulk Hogan $160 million over his leaked sex tape, and the week before, allegations that Kris Jenner leaked Kim Kardashian’s infamous 2003 sex tape came to the surface.

But first, a bit of background: Recently, Page Six published an excerpt of an upcoming book called Kardashian Dynasty (so look out for that), claiming “A mutual friend of Kim and Paris [Hilton] had advised her that if she wanted to achieve fame, a sex tape would be the way to go. Kim had discussed the idea of producing a tape with her family beforehand.” Another insider claiming it “was Kris who engineered the deal behind the scenes and was responsible for the tape seeing the light of day.” Sure! I mean, is this revelation groundbreaking? No, because in Internet years we are all 143 years old and nothing should surprise us anymore. Also, giving a shit about somebody’s sex tape is so vintage. And not in a good way.

Lest we forget that at the start of the #millennium we lost our minds over Paris Hilton’s One Night In Paris, a sex tape that garnered publicity she successfully parlayed into a reality TV, fashion, and music career. But that actually signalled the break from the way we handled and saw sex tapes before. Sure, she went on SNL to joke about it on Weekend Update with my then-boyfriend, Jimmy Fallon, but for the first time, we didn’t see it as a scarlet letter and accepted it as a part of her narrative. We watched The Simple Life. We bought her book and perfume. So sure, she had a sex tape, but compared to “Stars Are Blind,” it—in the age of camera phones and the internet—was hardly controversial.

And this marked a huge departure from 1998’s Stolen Honeymoon, in which Pamela Anderson and then-husband Tommy Lee’s coital activities were documented via VHS. Which, as a wee baby teen, seemed absolutely bananas. Yes, they were married (and the sex was consensual), but it was taped, on a boat and starred one of the former stars of Home Improvement. It seemed so illicit and 100% our business.

Before Pam and Tommy, Rob Lowe spawned one of the first celebrity sex tapes ever in 1988 (which almost ruined him), Katie Price and her boyfriend made one that leaked in 1999 (sure), and Fred Durst ended up in his own back in 2005 (please insert “Nookie” joke here). Also, lest we forget that in 2005, Colin Farrell sued his co-star in their 2003 sex tape, and 2006, a thirsty Dustin Diamond (a.k.a. Screech from Saved by the Bell) appeared in his own sex tape that “leaked,” on purpose. (Arguably making it the only sex tape in the world that nobody has sought out or seen.)

And of course, these are just a run-off of our existing voyeuristic relationship with celebrities and their sexual preferences, whether they be Hugh Grant and Eddie Murphy’s separate dalliances with sex workers, or the fishbowl we found ourselves peering into as Bill Clinton promised he did “not have sexual relations with that woman” back in 1999. Even last year, as celebrity photos were leaked at the hands of 4Chan, media—and other, regular people—zeroed in on the stolen nude photos of celebrities, fixating on the fact that they existed and how scandalous they were before acknowledging their availability as a huge breach of privacy.

Which, sadly, means that despite our casual shrugs about Paris and Kim’s sex tapes, we haven’t graduated from our celebrity sex obsession, we’ve just moved on to more invasive types of peering in. Plus, we still hold the golden age of sex tapes near and dear to our hearts, citing them when it’s convenient or when we want to seem holier-than-thou.

I mean, think about it: For every Kim K endorsement deal comes a thousand (or so) voices rising up to protest that any/all fame she’s achieved stems from her highly-publicized sexual activities in a way you don’t see attached to anybody else. But to start, that isn’t true—mainly because a sex tape may get people talking, but to establish a decade-spanning career takes hustle and heart. And if it was, who gives a shit? The thing about sex tapes is that you don’t have to watch them.

Which is the point we seem to be missing every time we get huffy over a celebrity’s affinity for recording consual sex or their choice not to wear clothes or whatever-it-is we don’t expect them to do. Once upon a time, we cared about sex tapes because they seemed like such a novel idea—rare, risky and even narcissistic. But now, documenting everything is part of the social media landscape. Now, we buy phone cases that light up our faces flatteringly, and we post selfies, and send Snapchats, and enthusiastically celebrate our clothes and our bodies and how we want the world to see us. It’s hypocritical to judge a famouses’ penchant for doing what a lot of other people are doing—even if it’s something you wouldn’t do. (Sorry, everyone.)

In fact, today’s brand of self-expression-via-documentation is rooted in empowerment. And while we’re also seeing women shamed for what they choose to post (see: how a literal breast will have your Instagram account suspended), we’re also seeing women step up to defend one’s right to post freely. Which may also explain the popularity of Kim Kardashian’s Selfish, and why we’re finally calling on an end to slut-shaming — even though we have hundreds of miles to go. (But that’s a post for another day.)

But that’s arguably what the legacy of the nineties and Y2K-era sex tape fallout was: shaming women for choosing to have sex on tape. It was a knee-jerk reaction to sexual expression, and any continuing hate is equally unfounded. In 2003, Kim Kardashian had sex with her boyfriend, and the recording of it showed up on the Internet. That was 13 years ago. To think that anything we did 13 years ago still has merit would be ridiculous and embarrassing. (Especially since 13 years ago, I was for sure wearing clogs with low-rise flared jeans, trying to wear my hair like Reese Witherspoon in “Sweet Home Alabama.”) To think that sex tapes are anything but a sex tape is embarrassing, too.

And I mean, sure: Maybe Kris Jenner really orchestrated a coup to have Kim’s leaked to the masses. But even if that was the case, that gets a big shrugging Emoji from me. At the time, neither Kim nor Ray J were household names, so there’s only so much a leaked tape could’ve done. (And seriously, it took years before we cared about any Jenner other than Brody.) So what we’ve seen in its wake is the result of a whole lot of other highly-choreographed moves—not something filmed with the quality of a Krzr camera phone.

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