The Kardashians as satire, or Death of the Author in the capitalist twenty-first century
Death of the author as literary theory has been discussed to death by literary theorists since Barthes’ essay was first published, to the point where everyone debating Harry Potter will bring it up regarding Rowling’s intent, and subsequent political stance. Upon serial viewing of social media phenomenon Campbell Puckett, known affectionately to her fans and partner as Pookie, I started to question both whether the content was intended to be satire, and then if the intent mattered, specifically in the context of satire. While Pookie and Jett lived rent-free in my head, I started to apply this line of thought not only to other forms of content, but also existences, until I settled on what I believe is the catch-all question: is/are the/The Kardashians satire? Given cultural context it resides in and attitude of its consumers, both the Kardashians and The Kardashians constitute satirical farce.
A couple of months ago, one of my friends discovered Pookie online and started sharing her content to a group chat. At that time, she had only 150k Instagram followers, and at the time of publishing she has 402k. The original conversation jumped straight into the crux of the issue: Is this content satire? Most of us agreed that it originally wasn’t intended to be satirical, but rather a woman creating content about the clothes that she is wearing. Pookie gained notoriety after her husband Jett started appearing in her videos with whole-hearted and embarrassing support of her. This is when the internet picked up on it, first in earnest, as his comments endeared him to many woman, and then as mockery, as others started commenting on how cringe the videos were.
The question then became one of whether it was now intentional or earnest. Instagram comments are a minefield, and an order of magnitude more diverse than TikTok comments because the algorithm is much poorer. Consequently, content that is intended for one audience (ie, other Pookies and Jetts) is often shown to people who don’t consume such content (ie, my friends and I). The comments on Pookie’s videos are a mix of encouraging bromides from other Pookies and insults by other Instagram users about how bad the videos were, and as time went on, if the videos were satire or not. It was then that I wondered if Death of the Author was applicable to satire.
The Death of the Author originated from a 1967 essay by Roland Barthes in which he argues against the literary tradition of applying authorial intent and biography to analyze a work of literature, but instead highlights the importance of the reader’s own interpretation over a “correct” one based on the author’s intended meaning. Supplementing this were the “post” ideas of postmodernism and poststructuralism, as well as critical literary theories including feminist and Marxist. The snappiest name of course, was Death of the Author, so that stuck and was tacked onto everything. However, can it apply to interpreting a work as satire? It feels more strange than say, an interpretation of Top Gun as a homoerotic love story.
If so, then every bad piece of writing could be satire. The Fast and Furious series? Satire. A poorly written blaxploitation book? Satire. This had gotten to the point where I passed by a restaurant in Toronto selling crepes called “O’Frenchy” and I wondered to myself if that was satire. On the walls hung IKEA style prints of the Mona Lisa and the Eiffel Tower. The menu boasted items such as a French Vanilla milkshake. And the crepes were rolled. Call me ignorant, but I’ve never had a rolled crepe in my life. Was this satire? Could anything be interpreted against authorial intent and deemed satire? I posit that within the capitalist framework, the author not no longer has control of their creations, but also no longer cares about how their creation is interpreted, so long as it continues to exist and generates revenue. Does Vin Diesel care that people think “family” is a joke if movies about cars dropping out of planes gross over a billion dollars? Does O’Frenchy care that their storefront looks like postmodern pastiche if they can continue to sell their crepes?
This brings us to the Kardashians, widely referenced whenever someone is groping for an example of modernity’s failures. To all the haters out there, the Kardashians, and the most recent iteration of their show, The Kardashians, represent the worst possible aspects of American culture that the youth are somehow aspiring to: “they’re famous for the sake of being famous!” “they say the dumbest and most unaware things imaginable!” “they’re not even that good-looking!” The Kardashians is supposedly peddling consumerism, vanity, and drama to those who watch. However, those who say that have never spoken with anyone who actually watches the show; those who do instead claim that they know it’s fake drivel, but watch it for the sheer entertainment. If the viewers know the show is as real as WWE, why do they watch it? The answer might be provided by some people unknowingly: “Oh, I watch The Kardashians, but ironically”. The Kardashians is satire. It’s satire in that there are fewer sincere watchers than Fast and Furious fans or O’Frenchy patrons. Outlandish entertainment is the goal.
More profoundly, The Kardashians can be viewed as a critique of the American Dream: Despite the commonplace belief that the family doesn’t work, that’s all they do. Their entire existence is work, somehow leveraging Kim’s role some twenty years ago as personal assistant to Paris Hilton into a billion-dollar entertainment franchise. Though the family has never been poor, they’ve since climbed the ranks from tabloid mainstays to fashion show centerpieces. They are America’s royal family: whereas princes William and Harry were born with everything they have, Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney have had to fight tooth and nail for their invitations to the MET Gala through sex tapes and expedient celebrity marriages. Such is the class mobility of America, and the promise of the new world.
However, despite all their success, they continue to live empty lives which revolve around consumerism and work. Some sneer “money doesn’t buy class,” but it is ultimately a reflection of American society, that even those at the top are fighting to stay there, bickering over the smallest things and being abandoned by their baby daddies. They’re just like us! The Kardashians is such effective satire that the uninitiated can’t identify it as such, mocking it for being cheap and trashy without realizing the mirror it holds to our society. It provides its viewers some degree of catharsis when they identify with the Kardashians and see that after the rat race is only more rat race. They might not understand that The Kardashians is an exaggerated satirical look at the coveted lives of the rich and famous, but they will realize that perhaps their lives aren’t as glamourous as they’ve made it out to be.
Of course, I don’t believe everything is satire. But perhaps everything does eventually devolve into it after enough iterations like F9. As modern content creators give up rights of the content to the platforms they’re shared on, giving the algorithms free rein to share it with whomever gives it the most attention, it’s likely that the viewers it lands with regards it completely differently than the way the creator intended. But that is no longer relevant in today’s age, and the creator is unbothered as well. Eventually they will draw upon the viewership and popularity for financial or social gain. And when that happens, authorial intent is reborn, shaped by the will of the reader.
