The performer appears on the video call and right away starts an apology. “Apologies for the delay!” she exclaims, sounding genuinely apologetic. Although she's only slightly late, she needs to clarify. “I have such a problem, because I’m a yapper on the phone. “Previous discussions went over, and I realized I talk too much!” Fortunately, in this context, this is precisely what you want to experience. Additionally, it’s fairly expected. Viewers who have seen her fearlessly queer and brash project Bottoms—that she co-wrote with the director and starred in alongside her friend the talented actress—would be aware that Sennott holds a lot to say, ranging from on roles, relationships, or the appeal of starting a high-school combat group. Plus, once you finish the new multi-episode show I Love LA, it is clear that she has further insights on the struggles of modern youth (Now in her thirties, Sennott serves as a relatable figure of the gang, straddling eras with a knack for straddling millennials and Gen Z).
The comparisons to the iconic series Girls naturally arise and Sennott is a fan, naming it together with Sex and the City, the acclaimed comedy and the innovative program as inspirations for I Love LA, which follows the struggles of a social media star Tallulah and close companion who is also aspiring talent manager Maia. However, the biggest spot on the moodboard went to the HBO series, the show about an emerging A-list actor making his way in a gritty entertainment industry (notable statement: “only the unsuccessful find joy here”). She began viewing it throughout COVID-19, became “obsessed”, and chose to add a fresh perspective on it “with female and queer audiences in mind”.
“I wanted to make a show where the internet, not Hollywood, was the industry, because my career started online,” she notes. The concept for I Love LA came—in part—from firsthand, at first difficult, transition to Tinseltown and from her saturn return, a frequently discussed event for followers. This represented an era that saw her understand major insights, in her career and in private life. “During my younger years, I was chaotic, often breaking down in public,” she admits. “After relocating to Los Angeles in my mid-twenties, I found stability, only for things to crumble. “The struggles felt almost mythic in scale…”
Growing up in New England, Sennott commenced writing and performing comedy while enrolled in performance 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 states. “Every campus humor group turned me down after tryouts.” “None of the university plays cast me either.” “It left me questioning my purpose and place.”
She took matters into her own hands, appearing at amateur nights with Ayo and posting hysterical (and very) unconventional online content on the internet. A particular video, Baby Cult, depicted several females fetishistically obsessed with pregnancy; another imagined working at a trendy retail outlet as akin to being caught in a scary movie. By chance, she encountered Seligman through the university’s film scene and ended up starring in her directorial debut, titled Shiva Baby, a stressful film set at a religious event with shades of the Safdie brothers’ movie. The central motif of her journey, she says, has been peers giving her a shot, instead of traditional networks. So the old guard wasn’t helpful? “They were not involved”, she confirms, adding with a laugh: “They prefer we don’t succeed.”
Individuals who had doubts regarding Sennott earlier will certainly be regretting it today. In what she calls a “wild, full-circle” development, she seems to have manifested an ideal role. In 2019 she posted a video titled about Los Angeles on social media, in which she mocked Hollywood trailers (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Years later, she’s a lead creator (with Emma Barrie) of a show about city dwellers balancing the perks of digital stardom (such as celebrating at Elijah Wood’s house) with downsides (your associate being labeled as being a intoxicated thief, and possibly becoming a risky pariah). It would be easy to produce a series about online fame that was extremely aspirational—or, even less favorable, one that mocked at those depicted. This show does neither, making for a portrait of advantaged young adult existence that’s candid about the grot and the glamour.
“Numerous series present younger generations and digital culture in a derogatory manner,” 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
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