Cara Delevingne had already hoped to find a project exploring human sexuality before “Planet Sex” was pitched to her — though she didn’t imagine that would mean bringing a camera with her to have her blood drawn post-orgasm, nor that she’d attend a seminar about masturbation technique.
Which is exactly where Hulu documentary series “Planet Sex” took her. “This was always something I was interested in doing, broaching this subject. I just didn’t really understand how, or what that was going to take,” the model and actor says. When she was pitched about the show, “It wasn’t even a yes. It was just straight away: ‘When are we doing this?'”
But “Planet Sex” isn’t solely about activities typically reserved for the private sphere. Each episode explores a different question about sexual orientation and gender identity, through which Delevingne also examined what it means for people to embrace their identities in public. As a result, the series also sees her attend her first-ever Pride festival and experiment with drag to play with her more masculine side.
With all episodes of “Planet Sex” streaming in time for Valentine’s Day, Delevingne spoke to PvNew about baring it all, holding onto her privacy and what happens in between.
In the series, you seem quite surprised at a lot of the activities you partake in, like the masturbation seminar. How involved were you planning each outing?
I was quite involved with planning, but there were a lot of things I wanted to be a surprise. I didn’t want to know every detail. How many people, the setting, what it looked like. There was stuff that needed to be realistic. My reactions — none of it was acting.
In the first episode, you talk about never having been to Pride and feeling a lot of shame around your queerness, though you’re often touted as a prominent queer celebrity. Where does that dissonance come from, and how has it changed?
Talking about it in the show, I wasn’t feeling that at the time, but I know I’d gone through that. I think any person who’s queer has gone through a period of shame, or at least not understanding who they are and feeling like they don’t belong. That was something I’ve always felt. I was harkening back to that feeling. Doing the show brought back a lot of memories of how that was so prevalent in my childhood and in my teenage years and in my 20s, too.
Doing the show just opened me up to so much. Like, I was always queer, yes, but I lived a very straight lifestyle. I wasn’t being a part of the community as much as I wanted to be. Advocating is one thing, but being a part of the community and enjoying and celebrating your own queerness is different. I feel like I did that for the first time, and it was amazing. Seeing other people so proud and so comfortable with who they are inspired me so much. I really hope people get that from this. And it’s not just being queer; it’s being proud of who you are as a person, no matter how you define yourself.
Though you’re an open book throughout the series, there are a few moments you opt not to divulge everything. The camera never sees the mold you made of your vagina with artist sculptor Rokudenashiko or where the night goes at Skirt Club, the queer women’s sex party. Did you ever consider sharing those things? How did it feel to say no?
Especially when it came to the vagina model, there was gonna be so much where people were going to titillate over the fact of, “Oh, she’s just showing her vagina!” But it’s a mold. So there were some things I was going to keep private. The whole process of people making vagina art is for themselves. I have it in my house. It’s so sweet. Like, I love it, and I’m so proud of it. But in that moment, it was weird! And I wanted that journey to be for myself. I hope people understand that there’s a lot of things I do open up, about and I’m very happy to, but this is also something that I was having as a journey for myself.
And Skirt Club, we didn’t stay. That was part of the ruse. But there were a lot of bits that they didn’t show in terms of really emotional moments. A lot of women, even in the masturbation seminar and in the lesbian Skirt Club place — not lesbian, technically — there was a lot of trauma that came up with people. A lot of trauma and abuse, which I also connected with. A lot of subjects came up, which I also thought was an important thing to be able to talk about afterwards. In these moments where it’s meant to be sexy and fun, women have a lot of problems speaking about trauma.
Were there any other interesting activities or conversations that didn’t make the final cut?
We did one thing where we went to go see a guy who made a [musical] instrument that he said could make a woman orgasm. It was a lie, it didn’t work, but it was an amazing experience. A cis, straight, white man talking about how he can make a woman come with an instrument. Ridiculous!
Honestly, there was more I wanted to do. I wanted to go into a conversion camp and show people what that is, and do it with them thinking that I actually wanted to convert. I wanted to do harder shit. I wanted to do more gripping things — that maybe wouldn’t be healthy for me — but I wanted to show what that is like. But there were a lot of restraints with COVID as well, depending on what countries we were going to. That stopped a few things.
Are you still interested in doing that? Would you make another season of “Planet Sex”?
Oh, 100%. A lot of [Season 1] was quite female-based — men are equally invited in, and can learn a lot from it in terms of the orgasm gap and everything — but there’s a lot more topics I’d love to hit on.
Lastly: There was a period last fall when your fans were very worried about you. How are you doing? Is there anything you’d like a chance to address?
No, I will address it in time. I’m good. I’m great! I’m very excited for “Carnival Row” and “Planet Sex.” I had a rough year last year. But you know, my fans, I hope they know how much I take healing seriously. There’s just ways people cope with things in life that maybe aren’t healthy.
