Rachel Sennott joins the digital interview and at once starts an excuse. “I can’t believe I’m late!” she exclaims, seeming really apologetic. She is only slightly delayed, she wants to explain. “I have such a problem, because I’m a yapper on the phone. “Earlier calls made me late—I just can’t stop chatting!” Fortunately, in this context, that’s exactly what you want to experience. Besides, it’s pretty unsurprising. Anyone who know her fearlessly LGBTQ+ and outspoken movie Bottoms—that she co-wrote with the director and featured in alongside collaborator Ayo Edebiri—would already know that she has plenty to say, be it on identity, relationships, or the pros of starting a youth fight club. Furthermore, once you finish her new eight-part HBO series titled I Love LA, it is clear that she carries additional insights regarding the darker side of modern youth (As a millennial, Sennott represents an honorary member for this generation, a tale-end millennial with a knack for bridging millennials and Gen Z).
The comparisons to the iconic series Girls are inevitable and the actress is a fan, referencing it alongside the HBO hit, Issa Rae’s show and Donald Glover’s series as guides for her series, which follows the travails of a social media star played by Odessa A’Zion and her friend and new talent manager Sennott’s character. However, the most significant spot on the moodboard went to the HBO series, that show focusing on a rising celebrity succeeding in a corrupt LA scene (notable statement: “only the unsuccessful find joy here”). She started watching it throughout the pandemic, became “obsessed”, and decided to put her own twist 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 I Love LA came—to some extent—from her own, initially rocky, transition to Los Angeles and from her cosmic event, a much-talked-about phenomenon for astrology heads. It was a phase that included her grasp major truths, professionally and individually. “My twenties began with constant public emotional outbursts and disorganization,” she recalls. “After relocating to Los Angeles in my mid-twenties, I found stability, only for things to crumble. “The struggles felt almost mythic in scale…”
Raised in Connecticut, Sennott started developing and showcasing comedy while studying performance at New York University (NYU) Tisch School of the Arts. “I followed traditional paths to get on stage, but nothing clicked,” she explains. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. I tried out for all the NYU plays and didn’t make it into any of them. “It left me questioning my purpose and place.”
Sennott decided to act independently, appearing at live shows with Edebiri and posting uproarious (and very) unconventional skits digitally. A particular video, Baby Cult, depicted several females intensely fixated on pregnancy; a different one envisioned being employed at the brand Hollister as like being caught in a scary movie. Interestingly, she met Seligman through campus film circles and eventually starring in her directorial debut, Shiva Baby, a tense dramedy set at a funeral gathering with echoes of the intense thriller. The central motif of her path, she notes, has been people her own age supporting her, rather than established gatekeepers. Does that mean bypassing the usual powers? “Not the gatekeepers”, she emphasizes, continuing with a laugh: “They don’t want us to win.”
Those who were skeptical about Sennott earlier will surely be regretting it today. As part of she calls a “astonishingly complete” turn of events, she seems to have manifested the perfect project. A few years back she uploaded content named on LA life on social media, in which she mocked movie previews (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Now, she’s executive producer (with her partner) of a show about Angelenos balancing the perks of digital stardom (such as socializing at a celebrity’s house) with drawbacks (your friend being suspected of being a intoxicated thief, and possibly becoming a “brand unsafe” outcast). Some could simple to make a program about online fame that was extremely glamorous—or, even less favorable, one that mocked at the characters. The series does neither, resulting in a depiction of advantaged millennial living that’s candid about the chaos and the shine.
“Many programs portray youth and online life with disdain and mockery,” 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
A tech journalist and digital strategist with over a decade of experience covering emerging technologies and their impact on business and society.