Rachel Sennott appears on the online meeting and right away starts an excuse. “Apologies for the delay!” she exclaims, sounding genuinely remorseful. She is only a bit behind, she wants to explain. “I tend to talk too much during calls. I had two calls before this, and I’m like, I’ve gotta stop talking!” Thankfully, in this context, that’s exactly what you want to hear. Moreover, it’s fairly unsurprising. Anyone who have seen the boldly queer and brash movie titled Bottoms—which Sennott collaborated on with her creative partner and appeared in alongside close companion The Bear’s standout—can understand that she has much to share, ranging from on roles, sex, or the pros of creating a youth fight club. And, after watching her recent seasonal show I Love LA, it is clear that she carries additional thoughts regarding the darker side of young adulthood (Now in her thirties, Sennott represents a relatable figure to younger audiences, on the cusp adept for bridging millennials and Gen Z).
Likenesses to the iconic series Girls are inevitable and Sennott readily acknowledges an admirer, naming it alongside the HBO hit, the acclaimed comedy and the innovative program as influences for I Love LA, which details the struggles of an influencer played by Odessa A’Zion and her friend who is also aspiring talent manager Sennott’s character. However, the most significant influence on concept went to the popular sitcom, the show about an up-and-coming Hollywood star making his way in an often-seedy Hollywood (memorable line: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). She started watching it throughout the pandemic, became “captivated”, and decided to add a fresh perspective on it “for the girls and the gays”.
“My aim was to focus on digital fame over traditional entertainment, as my own beginnings were on the web,” she says. The idea for this project came—to some extent—from firsthand, originally fractious, relocation to LA and from the cosmic event, a frequently discussed event for astrology heads. This represented an era that included her learn major life lessons, work-wise and individually. “In my early 20s I was so messy, crying in public everywhere, all the time,” she says. “Settling in LA during my mid-twenties brought calm, but soon everything unraveled.” It was almost like these biblical tests …”
Raised in New England, the star commenced writing and performing humor while pursuing performance at a prestigious arts school. “I followed traditional paths to get on stage, but nothing clicked,” she explains. “Every campus humor group turned me down after tryouts.” “None of the university plays cast me either.” “I wondered why I was even there at all.”
Sennott took matters into her own hands, taking the stage at open mics with Ayo and sharing uproarious (and very) bizarre online content digitally. A particular video, Baby Cult, centered on several females fetishistically drawn to pregnancy; a different one envisioned being employed at the brand Hollister as akin to being caught in a scary movie. Interestingly, she connected with Seligman through NYU’s movie community and ended up appearing in her initial project, titled Shiva Baby, an anxious film set at a religious event with hints of the intense thriller. A recurring idea of her career, she says, has been contemporaries supporting her, rather than the industry at large. Does that mean bypassing the usual powers? “Not the gatekeepers”, she emphasizes, stating amusedly: “They don’t want us to win.”
Anyone who had doubts about her previously will surely be kicking themselves currently. In what she calls a “wild, full-circle” development, she has achieved an ideal role. Previously she shared content called “it’s LA” on the internet, in which she parodied Hollywood trailers (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Years later, she’s a lead creator (with her partner) of a series about Angelenos managing benefits of digital stardom (such as socializing at Elijah Wood’s house) with its pitfalls (your friend being labeled as being a intoxicated criminal, and potentially becoming a unreliable persona non grata). It would be tempting to produce a program about digital influence that was extremely glamorous—or, even less favorable, one that mocked at its subjects. I Love LA avoids both, resulting in a portrait of privileged twentysomething living that’s frank about the grot 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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