Rachel Sennott enters the video call and at once starts an apology. “Oh my God – I’m sorry!” she states, seeming really remorseful. She is only slightly behind, she feels compelled to justify. “I have such a problem, because I’m a yapper on the phone. “Previous discussions went over, and I realized I talk too much!” Luckily, for a writer, this is exactly what is ideal to encounter. Moreover, it’s fairly predictable. Anyone who know the fearlessly LGBTQ+ and unapologetically crass project Bottoms—which Sennott co-wrote with her creative partner and appeared in with collaborator Ayo Edebiri—can understand that she possesses much to share, be it on gender, sex, or the appeal of forming a high-school combat group. Furthermore, by the end her recent eight-part HBO series I Love LA, it is clear that the star holds even more insights about the challenges of young adulthood (As a millennial, Sennott serves as a bridge for this generation, straddling eras with a knack for straddling both generations).
Parallels to Lena Dunham’s groundbreaking show naturally arise and the actress admits to being an admirer, citing it in addition to Sex and the City, Issa Rae’s show and Donald Glover’s series as inspirations for the project, which tracks the journey of online personality played by Odessa A’Zion and her friend and new agent portrayed by Sennott. Perhaps, the most significant spot on concept was reserved for the popular sitcom, the show depicting an up-and-coming A-list actor succeeding in an often-seedy LA scene (choice quote: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). Sennott began viewing it during lockdown, became “obsessed”, and decided to put her own twist on it “targeting women and LGBTQ+ viewers”.
“I wanted to make a show where the internet, not Hollywood, was the industry, because my career started online,” she explains. The concept for I Love LA emerged—partly—from firsthand, originally rocky, transition to Los Angeles and from her saturn return, a popular occurrence for followers. It was a time that included her learn major life lessons, professionally and individually. “During my younger years, I was chaotic, often breaking down in public,” 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, the star started creating and acting comedy while enrolled in performance at NYU’s Tisch. “Despite trying every conventional route, I couldn’t find my footing,” she explains. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. 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.”
She took matters into her own hands, performing at live shows with her friend and uploading hilarious (and very) weird comedy videos online. One, titled Baby Cult, depicted characters obsessively drawn to pregnancy; a different one envisioned being employed at a trendy retail outlet as similar to being trapped in a horror film. By chance, she connected with Emma through campus film circles and ended up starring in her initial project, titled Shiva Baby, a stressful film set at a religious event with shades of Uncut Gems. The big theme of her career, she explains, has been peers supporting her, as opposed to established gatekeepers. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “Not the gatekeepers”, she emphasizes, continuing humorously: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Those who were skeptical regarding her previously will likely be kicking themselves now. As part of she describes as a “wild, full-circle” story, she seems to have manifested the perfect project. A few years back she uploaded a clip called “it’s LA” on social media, in which she mocked film promos (“Everyone’s hooked on something”). Six years on, she’s the co-showrunner (with the co-writer) of a show about LA residents managing benefits of internet fame (such as partying at a celebrity’s house) with downsides (your client being labeled as being a drug-addled stealer, and potentially becoming a unreliable persona non grata). It would be easy to create a show about online fame that was horribly glamorous—or, even less favorable, one that mocked at its subjects. The series does neither, resulting in a depiction of advantaged young adult existence that’s frank about the chaos and the glamour.
“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
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