The performer joins the digital interview and at once launches into an excuse. “Oh my God – I’m sorry!” she states, sounding truly apologetic. Although she's only a bit behind, she needs to clarify. “My phone conversations always run long.” “Previous discussions went over, and I realized I talk too much!” Fortunately, in this context, this is just what you want to experience. Additionally, it’s fairly predictable. Those who have seen the boldly queer and brash project titled Bottoms—which Sennott co-wrote with Emma Seligman and starred in alongside her friend the talented actress—can be aware that Sennott possesses much to discuss, whether about identity, relationships, or the pros of starting a teen brawl society. And, by the end the latest eight-part program titled I Love LA, it is clear that the star has even more insights about the struggles of Gen Z life (As a millennial, she represents a bridge for this generation, on the cusp adept for connecting millennials and Gen Z).
The comparisons to Lena Dunham’s Girls are inevitable and Sennott is an admirer, referencing the show alongside the classic series, Insecure and Donald Glover’s series as guides for the project, which follows the struggles of a social media star played by Odessa A’Zion and close companion and aspiring representative Maia. Notably, the most significant influence on creative vision went to Entourage, that HBO sitcom about an emerging celebrity making his way in a gritty entertainment industry (choice quote: “nobody’s happy in this town except for the losers”). Sennott began viewing it amid the pandemic, became “hooked”, and chose 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 idea for the series came—partly—from her own, initially fractious, transition to LA and from the saturn return, a much-talked-about event for followers. That period marked an era that involved her understand significant truths, in her career and individually. “During my younger years, I was chaotic, often breaking down in public,” she says. “Settling in LA during my mid-twenties brought calm, but soon everything unraveled.” “The struggles felt almost mythic in scale…”
Brought up in Connecticut, the star commenced writing and performing humor while pursuing theatre at New York University (NYU) Tisch School of the Arts. “I went through all the proper channels to try to perform, and they weren’t gelling,” she explains. “Every campus humor group turned me down after tryouts.” “None of the university plays cast me either.” And I just felt like, what am I doing here?”
She decided to act independently, appearing at live shows with Edebiri and sharing hysterical (and distinctly) weird online content digitally. One, Baby Cult, depicted a group of women intensely fixated on having babies; another imagined working at the preppy clothing store Hollister as akin to being trapped in a thriller. Interestingly, she met Emma through NYU’s movie community and eventually appearing in her directorial debut, titled Shiva Baby, a stressful comedy set at a Jewish wake with shades of Uncut Gems. The central motif of her journey, she notes, has been people her own age supporting her, as opposed to traditional networks. Does that mean bypassing the usual powers? “Not the gatekeepers”, she repeats, adding with a laugh: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Individuals who questioned regarding her earlier will surely be feeling foolish now. As part of she describes as a “incredibly circular” story, she has created her dream vehicle. Previously she shared a video named on LA life on social media, in which she mocked Hollywood trailers (“Everyone’s hooked on something”). Years later, she’s executive producer (with Emma Barrie) of a series about LA residents juggling advantages of digital stardom (such as socializing at a celebrity’s house) with downsides (your friend being accused of being a drug-addled stealer, and perhaps becoming a unreliable persona non grata). It would be tempting to produce a show about digital influence that was horribly aspirational—or, worse, one that punched down at those depicted. I Love LA avoids both, making for a representation of advantaged millennial life that’s candid about the grot and the glamour.
“Many programs portray youth and online life with disdain and mockery,” 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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