The star enters the digital interview and at once launches into an excuse. “Apologies for the delay!” she exclaims, seeming truly apologetic. Despite being only slightly behind, she feels compelled to clarify. “I tend to talk too much during calls. “Earlier calls made me late—I just can’t stop chatting!” Luckily, in this context, this is precisely what you want to experience. Moreover, it’s quite predictable. Those familiar with her fearlessly LGBTQ+ and unapologetically crass movie Bottoms—which Sennott collaborated on with her creative partner and starred in with close companion The Bear’s standout—can understand that Sennott has plenty to discuss, whether about identity, sex, or the merits of starting a teen brawl society. And, by the end her latest seasonal show I Love LA, it is clear that the star holds further perspectives about the struggles of modern youth (As a millennial, Sennott represents a bridge for this generation, on the cusp with a knack for connecting both generations).
Likenesses to Lena Dunham’s groundbreaking show are inevitable and Sennott is an admirer, naming it in addition to Sex and the City, Insecure and Atlanta as guides for I Love LA, which follows the travails of an influencer played by Odessa A’Zion and ally and new agent portrayed by Sennott. Notably, the largest influence on creative vision belonged to the popular sitcom, the program focusing on an up-and-coming Hollywood star navigating in a corrupt Hollywood (notable statement: “happiness eludes everyone but failures in this city”). Sennott discovered it throughout COVID-19, became “hooked”, and resolved to add a fresh perspective on it “targeting women and LGBTQ+ viewers”.
“My aim was to focus on digital fame over traditional entertainment, as my own beginnings were on the web,” she explains. The inspiration for I Love LA originated—partly—from personal, originally difficult, move to Tinseltown and from her saturn return, a frequently discussed phenomenon for enthusiasts. It was a time that saw her learn significant life lessons, in her career and personally. “In my early 20s I was so messy, crying in public everywhere, all the time,” she admits. “After relocating to Los Angeles in my mid-twenties, I found stability, only for things to crumble. “It resembled a series of extreme challenges…”
Brought up in Connecticut, the star started creating and acting comedy while pursuing performance at NYU’s Tisch. “I went through all the proper channels to try to perform, and they weren’t gelling,” she explains. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. “Theatre productions at school also didn’t accept me. “It left me questioning my purpose and place.”
She seized control, taking the stage at amateur nights with Ayo and posting uproarious (and decidedly) weird skits online. A particular video, Baby Cult, followed several females intensely obsessed with motherhood; another envisioned being employed at the preppy clothing store Hollister as like being trapped in a horror film. Interestingly, she met Emma through the university’s film scene and ended up starring in her first film, Shiva Baby, a tense film set at a religious event with echoes of the Safdie brothers’ movie. The central motif of her journey, she notes, has been contemporaries offering opportunities, as opposed to established gatekeepers. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “Not the gatekeepers”, she confirms, adding amusedly: “Our victory isn’t their goal.”
Those who had doubts about Sennott then will likely be kicking themselves currently. In what she describes as a “astonishingly complete” story, she appears to created the perfect project. In 2019 she posted a video named on LA life online, in which she mocked Hollywood trailers (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Six years on, she’s the co-showrunner (with her partner) of a show about LA residents juggling advantages of internet fame (such as partying at a famous actor’s house) with its pitfalls (your friend being labeled as being a drug-addled criminal, and perhaps becoming a unreliable pariah). It would be easy to create a show about online fame that was extremely aspirational—or, more problematic, one that mocked at those depicted. The series avoids both, resulting in a representation of privileged millennial life that’s candid about the mess and the appeal.
“There have been a lot of shows that depict young people and their relationship to the internet in this very condescending, hateful way,” 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
Lena Visser is a mindfulness coach and writer passionate about helping others find inner peace.