The performer joins the digital interview and at once starts an apology. “I can’t believe I’m late!” she exclaims, appearing truly regretful. Despite being only slightly behind, she feels compelled to justify. “I tend to talk too much during calls. I had two calls before this, and I’m like, I’ve gotta stop talking!” Luckily, in this context, that’s precisely what one hopes to hear. Moreover, it’s fairly expected. Viewers who know the fearlessly LGBTQ+ and brash movie Bottoms—which Sennott collaborated on with the director and appeared in alongside collaborator The Bear’s standout—will already know that she holds a lot to share, be it about gender, sex, or the pros of forming a teen combat group. Furthermore, by the end the latest seasonal show titled I Love LA, it becomes obvious that the star carries additional perspectives on the darker side of Gen Z life (Now in her thirties, she serves as a relatable figure for this generation, on the cusp adept for straddling different age groups).
Parallels to Lena Dunham’s Girls are inevitable and the actress is enthusiastic, naming the show in addition to the classic series, Insecure and Atlanta as influences for the project, which details the struggles of online personality played by Odessa A’Zion and ally and aspiring representative Maia. Perhaps, the biggest influence on concept went to Entourage, that show focusing on a rising A-list actor succeeding in a corrupt Hollywood (notable statement: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). Sennott started watching it during COVID-19, became “obsessed”, and chose to create a new version 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 notes. The inspiration for I Love LA originated—in part—from her own, at first fractious, move to Los Angeles and from her cosmic event, a much-talked-about event for followers. That period marked a time that involved her learn significant truths, work-wise and personally. “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…”
Brought up in Connecticut, Sennott began developing and showcasing humor while studying acting at NYU’s Tisch. “Despite trying every conventional route, I couldn’t find my footing,” she states. “I tried out for all the NYU comedy groups, and got rejected from all of them. I tried out for all the NYU plays and didn’t make it into any of them. And I just felt like, what am I doing here?”
She decided to act independently, taking the stage at amateur nights with her friend and uploading hysterical (and decidedly) unconventional online content on the internet. One, Baby Cult, followed several females fetishistically obsessed with motherhood; a different one imagined working at a trendy retail outlet as akin to being stuck in a horror film. Interestingly, she met Emma through campus film circles and ultimately featuring in her first film, Shiva Baby, a tense film set at a religious event with echoes of the Safdie brothers’ movie. The big theme of her journey, she says, has been contemporaries giving her a shot, instead of the industry at large. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “They were not involved”, she confirms, continuing with a laugh: “Our victory isn’t their goal.”
Individuals who were skeptical about Sennott then will certainly be feeling foolish today. In what she calls a “astonishingly complete” turn of events, she has manifested her dream vehicle. A few years back she shared a clip named on LA life on social media, in which she parodied movie previews (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Years later, she’s a lead creator (with the co-writer) of a series about city dwellers managing advantages of online celebrity (such as partying at Elijah Wood’s house) with drawbacks (your client being accused of being a drug-addled thief, and perhaps becoming a unreliable outcast). Some could easy to produce a show about online fame that was horribly idealized—or, more problematic, one that punched down at those depicted. The series does neither, making for a depiction of privileged millennial life that’s candid about the mess and the glamour.
“Numerous series present younger generations and digital culture in a derogatory manner,” she comments. “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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