Rachel Sennott joins the online meeting and right away launches into an explanation. “I can’t believe I’m late!” she states, seeming really regretful. She is only slightly delayed, she wants to clarify. “My phone conversations always run long.” “Earlier calls made me late—I just can’t stop chatting!” Fortunately, in this context, this is precisely what is ideal to hear. Additionally, it’s quite predictable. Viewers who have seen her unapologetically openly gay and brash project Bottoms—which Sennott collaborated on with the director and featured in alongside close companion Ayo Edebiri—can understand that she possesses a lot to discuss, be it about roles, relationships, or the merits of forming a youth brawl society. And, once you finish the new seasonal program titled I Love LA, it is clear that she holds further thoughts regarding the challenges of young adulthood (At 30, she is a relatable figure for this generation, on the cusp with a knack for bridging millennials and Gen Z).
The comparisons to Lena Dunham’s groundbreaking show can’t be avoided and Sennott is enthusiastic, naming the show in addition to Sex and the City, Insecure and Donald Glover’s series as influences for I Love LA, which tracks the travails of a social media star played by Odessa A’Zion and ally who is also fledgling talent manager Sennott’s character. Notably, the largest presence on the moodboard went to Entourage, that program about an up-and-coming celebrity making his way in a gritty LA scene (memorable line: “only the unsuccessful find joy here”). Sennott started watching it amid lockdown, became “captivated”, and decided to add a fresh perspective on it “with female and queer audiences in mind”.
“My aim was to focus on digital fame over traditional entertainment, as my own beginnings were on the web,” she says. The inspiration for I Love LA emerged—partly—from firsthand, initially fractious, relocation to LA and from the saturn return, a popular phenomenon for enthusiasts. This represented a time that saw her learn significant life lessons, work-wise and individually. “My twenties began with constant public emotional outbursts and disorganization,” she says. “In my mid-20s, I moved to LA and got settled. And then I felt like everything started to just fall apart. “It resembled a series of extreme challenges…”
Brought up in Connecticut, Sennott began developing and showcasing comedy while enrolled in acting at a prestigious arts school. “I followed traditional paths to get on stage, but nothing clicked,” she explains. “I tried out for all the NYU comedy groups, and got rejected from all of them. “Theatre productions at school also didn’t accept me. “It left me questioning my purpose and place.”
Sennott seized control, performing at open mics with Edebiri and uploading hilarious (and very) bizarre skits online. A particular video, Baby Cult, depicted several females fetishistically fixated on motherhood; another portrayed being employed at the brand Hollister as akin to being trapped in a horror film. Interestingly, she connected with Seligman through the university’s film scene and ended up featuring in her first film, Shiva Baby, a tense dramedy set at a Jewish wake with echoes of the Safdie brothers’ movie. The big theme of her path, she notes, has been people her own age offering opportunities, instead of the industry at large. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “Not the gatekeepers”, she confirms, continuing amusedly: “They don’t want us to win.”
Anyone who were skeptical about her earlier will likely be kicking themselves now. Through she calls a “incredibly circular” development, she seems to have achieved an ideal role. Previously she shared content titled on LA life online, in which she mocked film promos (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Now, she’s the co-showrunner (with Emma Barrie) of a series about Angelenos managing the perks of digital stardom (such as partying at a famous actor’s house) with drawbacks (your associate being accused of being a intoxicated stealer, and potentially becoming a unreliable persona non grata). Some could tempting to produce a program about digital influence that was extremely idealized—or, worse, one that mocked at its subjects. The series avoids both, resulting in a depiction of affluent young adult life that’s frank about the chaos and the shine.
“Many programs portray youth and online life with disdain and mockery,” she observes. “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