Rachel Sennott joins the video call and at once launches into an apology. “Apologies for the delay!” she exclaims, sounding really regretful. She is only slightly behind, she needs to justify. “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, this is exactly what you want to encounter. Moreover, it’s pretty unsurprising. Those familiar with her unapologetically queer and outspoken project titled Bottoms—that she co-wrote with Emma Seligman and featured in alongside collaborator the talented actress—can be aware that she possesses plenty to say, whether on identity, relationships, or the pros of creating a teen fight club. Plus, after watching her latest eight-part HBO series I Love LA, it becomes obvious that she has further insights about the darker side of modern youth (Now in her thirties, she is a relatable figure of the gang, straddling eras adept for bridging different age groups).
Likenesses to Lena Dunham’s groundbreaking show can’t be avoided and Sennott readily acknowledges enthusiastic, citing the show alongside the classic series, the acclaimed comedy and the innovative program as guides for I Love LA, which tracks the journey of a social media star Tallulah and close companion who is also new talent manager Sennott’s character. Perhaps, the biggest spot on creative vision was reserved for Entourage, the HBO sitcom focusing on an emerging Hollywood star making his way in a gritty entertainment industry (notable statement: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). Sennott began viewing it amid the pandemic, became “captivated”, and chose to create a new version 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 explains. The idea for I Love LA came—partly—from her own, at first rocky, move to LA and from the cosmic event, a popular occurrence for followers. It was a time that included her learn major truths, professionally and personally. “In my early 20s I was so messy, crying in public everywhere, all the time,” she recalls. “Settling in LA during my mid-twenties brought calm, but soon everything unraveled.” “The struggles felt almost mythic in scale…”
Brought up in the East Coast, the star started writing and performing stand-up while studying acting at a prestigious arts school. “I followed traditional paths to get on stage, but nothing clicked,” she states. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. “Theatre productions at school also didn’t accept me. “I wondered why I was even there at all.”
She seized control, appearing at live shows with Edebiri and sharing hilarious (and very) unconventional online content digitally. One, Baby Cult, centered on several females intensely obsessed with having babies; a different one envisioned working at the preppy clothing store Hollister as akin to being trapped in a thriller. In a neat twist of fate, she connected with Emma through campus film circles and ended up starring in her initial project, Shiva Baby, a tense film set at a funeral gathering with shades of Uncut Gems. A recurring idea of her journey, she explains, has been contemporaries supporting her, as opposed to traditional networks. Does that mean bypassing the usual powers? “Not the gatekeepers”, she repeats, adding amusedly: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Those who were skeptical about her earlier will surely be kicking themselves currently. In what she labels a “wild, full-circle” turn of events, she seems to have created the perfect project. A few years back she uploaded a video titled on LA life on the internet, in which she parodied Hollywood trailers (“Everyone’s hooked on something”). Years later, she’s executive producer (with Emma Barrie) of a comedy about Angelenos juggling benefits of digital stardom (such as socializing at a famous actor’s house) with downsides (your client being labeled as being a substance-abusing stealer, and perhaps becoming a unreliable outcast). Some could easy to make a show about digital influence that was horribly aspirational—or, worse, one that mocked at those depicted. This show steers clear of each, creating a representation of privileged millennial living that’s frank about the mess and the glamour.
“There have been a lot of shows that depict young people and their relationship to the internet in this very condescending, hateful way,” 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
Oliver Sterling is a seasoned sports betting analyst with over a decade of experience in the UK gambling industry.