Rachel Sennott appears on the digital interview and at once starts an excuse. “I can’t believe I’m late!” she says, appearing truly apologetic. Although she's only slightly behind, she wants to clarify. “My phone conversations always run long.” I had two calls before this, and I’m like, I’ve gotta stop talking!” Thankfully, during an interview, that’s exactly what is ideal to encounter. Besides, it’s fairly unsurprising. Those who know the boldly queer and outspoken project Bottoms—that Sennott penned with her creative partner and appeared in with close companion the talented actress—will already know that Sennott possesses plenty to share, whether about identity, relationships, or the pros of forming a youth brawl society. Furthermore, after watching her new eight-part program I Love LA, it becomes obvious that the star has further insights about the challenges of modern youth (At 30, Sennott serves as a bridge to younger audiences, straddling eras skilled for connecting both generations).
Likenesses to the iconic series Girls are inevitable and Sennott admits to being enthusiastic, citing the show in addition to Sex and the City, Insecure and Atlanta as influences for I Love LA, which tracks the journey of a social media star played by Odessa A’Zion and her friend who is also fledgling representative Maia. Notably, the largest spot on creative vision was reserved for the popular sitcom, the show depicting an up-and-coming celebrity navigating in a gritty LA scene (choice quote: “only the unsuccessful find joy here”). Sennott started watching it amid the pandemic, became “captivated”, and chose to add a fresh perspective on it “for the girls and the gays”.
“I wanted to make a show where the internet, not Hollywood, was the industry, because my career started online,” she explains. The inspiration for this project emerged—in part—from firsthand, originally rocky, transition to LA and from the astrological phase, a frequently discussed phenomenon for followers. That period marked an era that included her understand major life lessons, professionally and individually. “In my early 20s I was so messy, crying in public everywhere, all the time,” she admits. “In my mid-20s, I moved to LA and got settled. And then I felt like everything started to just fall apart. It was almost like these biblical tests …”
Growing up in the East Coast, Sennott started creating and acting comedy while pursuing theatre at a prestigious arts school. “Despite trying every conventional route, I couldn’t find my footing,” she explains. “Every campus humor group turned me down after tryouts.” I tried out for all the NYU plays and didn’t make it into any of them. “It left me questioning my purpose and place.”
Sennott took matters into her own hands, appearing at open mics with Edebiri and posting hysterical (and distinctly) weird skits digitally. One, titled Baby Cult, centered on several females intensely obsessed with motherhood; a different one portrayed being employed at the preppy clothing store Hollister as similar to being caught in a thriller. In a neat twist of fate, she met Seligman through the university’s film scene and ultimately featuring in her first film, Shiva Baby, an anxious film set at a Jewish wake with shades of Uncut Gems. A recurring idea of her path, she explains, has been people her own age giving her a shot, as opposed to established gatekeepers. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “Not the gatekeepers”, she confirms, continuing humorously: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Anyone who questioned regarding Sennott previously will certainly be kicking themselves today. As part of she calls a “astonishingly complete” development, she seems to have manifested the perfect project. Previously she shared content named “it’s LA” online, in which she parodied Hollywood trailers (“I’m addicted to drugs – we all are”). Years later, she’s the co-showrunner (with the co-writer) of a show about Angelenos juggling the perks of online celebrity (such as socializing at Elijah Wood’s house) with drawbacks (your associate being labeled as being a intoxicated thief, and possibly becoming a risky outcast). It would be simple to make a show about online fame that was overly aspirational—or, worse, one that mocked at the characters. This show steers clear of each, resulting in a portrait of affluent young adult existence that’s candid about the chaos and the appeal.
“Numerous series present younger generations and digital culture in a derogatory manner,” she says. “I think that young people have been through a lot – I’m mostly thinking of people younger than me, like my little sister, who went to college during Covid, so she had to come home, or my other sister who was doing school online.”|“The younger generation has faced significant
Evelyn Vance is a seasoned journalist specializing in UK policy and cultural trends, with over a decade of experience in media analysis.