Celebrity skin

Film critic Cheryl Eddy ponders boudoir star turns by Paris et al.

SCREW PHOTO OPS and public feuds. These days the road to fame may also be paved with home-baked porn. Consider an aspirant such as Survivor star Jenna Lewis, who became interesting only when her wedding-night video mysteriously appeared on the Internet. And if you're already famous, releasing (or – dare I say it? – "leaking") a tape of your sexploits is practically a license to print legal tender. By now even space aliens know about One Night in Paris, the 2004 opus that's still the best showcase of Paris Hilton's acting talents to date.

Cinematically speaking, Hilton's film – rentable at most open-minded video stores, unlike some lesser celebrities', whose on-camera cavorting must be downloaded for viewing – is far from high art. If it weren't Tinkerbell's mommy up there, nobody would give two craps – though they might get a chuckle out of the first few seconds, which follow up a solemn graphic stating, "In memory of 9/11/01 ... we will never forget" with auteur Rick Salomon smirkingly addressing the camera. "Hey, I'm Rick," he greets us, chomping on a huge wad of gum. "This is my one night in Paris. Check it out!" For her part, Paris's dialogue consists mainly of "Ewww!" – though she does reprimand Salomon at least once: "Don't talk to me like I'm an animal!"

Overexposed though she is, Hilton has nothing on the original celebrity porn king, Hogan's Heroes star Bob Crane, who may or may not have been murdered for his seedy habits. Also persecuted for their porn ties: Rob Lowe, whose career hit the skids after a late-'80s tape scandal involving an underage girl; and Paul "Pee Wee Herman" Reubens, who wasn't even in a porn movie – he just liked to watch. But for most stars, even randy R. Kelly, porn's a boon, the gold standard perhaps being Pam and Tommy Lee's sex tape, which enhanced the careers (and fattened the wallets) of all involved – and lit fires under anyone in possession of tape featuring a Baywatch actress, an '80s rocker, or some combination thereof. That so many celebrities record themselves doin' the nasty is hardly a surprise; even modest types like Fred Durst (who protested mightily when images of his fugly "oh-face" were smeared across the Internet) show signs of being as self-obsessed as the rest. However, the genre does boast some genuine curiosities, like the sporty Tonya and Jeff's Wedding Night, or the recently released, and shudder-inducing, Tom Sizemore tape (seriously, who wants to see that?).

The result of this glut, though, is that news of a celeb sex tape feels a lot less juicy these days. Remember how bored you were when you heard that Colin Farrell was suing his ex-girlfriend to keep their tape under wraps?

If a celebrity gives it up on video, and word gets out, he or she has at least a couple of options unlikely to end in earth-shattering scandal. There's the Farrell route, which involves lawyers, restraining orders, and the public's assumption that you're hiding something. Or there's the Hilton method, which involves feigned shock, perhaps a tear-stained photo of you on the cover of US Weekly, and an eventual "whatever" attitude (perfected by Madonna in 1985, when pre-stardom nude shots of her surfaced in Playboy). In a biz where there's no such thing as bad press, and a culture now saturated with confessional-style, bare-almost-all reality TV, owning up to one's dirty deeds barely qualifies as shameful anymore – especially if you can negotiate yourself a share of the profits.

Cheryl Eddy watches G-rated movies too.