Rachel Sennott appears on the video call and immediately begins an explanation. “Apologies for the delay!” she states, appearing genuinely regretful. Despite being only a couple of minutes delayed, she needs to clarify. “My phone conversations always run long.” “Previous discussions went over, and I realized I talk too much!” Thankfully, during an interview, that’s precisely what is ideal to encounter. Additionally, it’s fairly predictable. Viewers who have seen the fearlessly openly gay and unapologetically crass film Bottoms—that she collaborated on with Emma Seligman and appeared in together with close companion Ayo Edebiri—would already know that Sennott holds a lot to share, ranging from about roles, relationships, or the appeal of creating a teen fight club. Furthermore, after watching her new eight-part show titled I Love LA, it becomes obvious that the star holds further perspectives on the struggles of modern youth (As a millennial, she represents a bridge to younger audiences, on the cusp skilled for connecting both generations).
Likenesses to Lena Dunham’s groundbreaking show naturally arise and the actress readily acknowledges a fan, citing the show alongside the HBO hit, the acclaimed comedy and the innovative program as influences for I Love LA, which details the travails of an influencer Tallulah and her friend and new agent Sennott’s character. However, the biggest spot on concept was reserved for Entourage, that program about a rising Hollywood star succeeding in an often-seedy LA scene (memorable line: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). Sennott started watching it during lockdown, became “captivated”, and decided to put her own twist on it “for the girls and the gays”.
“I sought to highlight online platforms as the new industry, since my professional journey launched there,” she notes. The idea for I Love LA came—to some extent—from personal, initially difficult, move to Los Angeles and from the saturn return, a popular event for enthusiasts. That period marked a time that saw her grasp some big insights, work-wise and individually. “My twenties began with constant public emotional outbursts and disorganization,” she admits. “After relocating to Los Angeles in my mid-twenties, I found stability, only for things to crumble. It was almost like these biblical tests …”
Growing up in Connecticut, the star began developing and showcasing stand-up while pursuing performance at a prestigious arts school. “Despite trying every conventional route, I couldn’t find my footing,” she says. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. “None of the university plays cast me either.” And I just felt like, what am I doing here?”
She took matters into her own hands, performing at amateur nights with Ayo and posting hysterical (and very) weird comedy videos digitally. One, titled Baby Cult, followed several females fetishistically drawn to having babies; a different one imagined being employed at a trendy retail outlet as similar to being stuck in a horror film. Interestingly, she met Seligman through the university’s film scene and ended up starring in her directorial debut, titled Shiva Baby, a stressful film set at a Jewish wake with echoes of Uncut Gems. The big theme of her career, she says, has been people her own age offering opportunities, instead of traditional networks. So the old guard wasn’t helpful? “They were not involved”, she confirms, stating with a laugh: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Those who questioned about her then will surely be feeling foolish today. As part of she calls a “wild, full-circle” development, she appears to created the perfect project. In 2019 she posted a clip called about Los Angeles online, in which she parodied film promos (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Years later, she’s executive producer (with the co-writer) of a series about LA residents balancing benefits of online celebrity (such as celebrating at Elijah Wood’s house) with drawbacks (your friend being accused of being a substance-abusing stealer, and potentially becoming a unreliable pariah). It would be simple to make a program about digital influence that was extremely glamorous—or, even less favorable, one that mocked at those depicted. I Love LA steers clear of each, creating a depiction of affluent millennial existence that’s frank about the grot and the shine.
“Numerous series present younger generations and digital culture in a derogatory manner,” she comments. “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
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