The performer enters the digital interview and right away launches into an explanation. “Oh my God – I’m sorry!” she states, seeming truly apologetic. She is only a couple of minutes delayed, she needs to explain. “My phone conversations always run long.” “Previous discussions went over, and I realized I talk too much!” Thankfully, for a writer, this is precisely what one hopes to experience. Additionally, it’s fairly expected. Anyone familiar with the boldly openly gay and outspoken movie Bottoms—which Sennott penned with Emma Seligman and appeared in with collaborator the talented actress—will be aware that Sennott has plenty to discuss, whether about gender, intimacy, or the appeal of creating a high-school brawl society. Plus, once you finish the recent seasonal program I Love LA, it is clear that the star holds further insights on the struggles of young adulthood (Now in her thirties, she serves as an honorary member to younger audiences, a tale-end millennial adept for bridging both generations).
Likenesses to Lena Dunham’s Girls are inevitable and the actress readily acknowledges enthusiastic, citing it in addition to Sex and the City, Issa Rae’s show and Atlanta as inspirations for her series, which details the journey of online personality Tallulah and ally and new talent manager portrayed by Sennott. However, the biggest presence on concept was reserved for the HBO series, that show about an up-and-coming Hollywood star succeeding in a corrupt entertainment industry (choice quote: “only the unsuccessful find joy here”). She began viewing it during lockdown, became “obsessed”, and resolved to add a fresh perspective on it “with female and queer audiences in mind”.
“My aim was to focus on digital fame over traditional entertainment, as my own beginnings were on the web,” she notes. The inspiration for I Love LA came—partly—from firsthand, originally difficult, relocation to Tinseltown and from the astrological phase, a much-talked-about event for followers. That period marked a phase that saw her grasp major life lessons, in her career and personally. “During my younger years, I was chaotic, often breaking down in public,” she says. “In my mid-20s, I moved to LA and got settled. And then I felt like everything started to just fall apart. “It resembled a series of extreme challenges…”
Brought up in Connecticut, the star started creating and acting stand-up while pursuing theatre at a prestigious arts school. “I went through all the proper channels to try to perform, and they weren’t gelling,” she says. “Auditions for university comedy troupes led to universal rejection. “None of the university plays cast me either.” “I wondered why I was even there at all.”
She took matters into her own hands, performing at amateur nights with Edebiri and sharing hilarious (and decidedly) unconventional comedy videos on the internet. A particular video, titled Baby Cult, depicted a group of women intensely fixated on having babies; a different one portrayed working at a trendy retail outlet as similar to being caught in a horror film. By chance, she met Emma through the university’s film scene and eventually starring in her directorial debut, Shiva Baby, a tense film set at a funeral gathering with hints of the intense thriller. The big theme of her path, she notes, has been peers supporting her, rather than the industry at large. So, not the gatekeepers, then? “They were not involved”, she emphasizes, continuing amusedly: “They don’t want us to win.”
Anyone who had doubts about her previously will certainly be regretting it now. In what she labels a “astonishingly complete” development, she appears to manifested an ideal role. In 2019 she uploaded a video called on LA life on the internet, in which she lampooned movie previews (“Substance abuse is rampant here”). Years later, she’s executive producer (with her partner) of a show about Angelenos juggling benefits of digital stardom (such as celebrating at a famous actor’s house) with downsides (your client being suspected of being a drug-addled thief, and possibly becoming a “brand unsafe” persona non grata). One might simple to make a series about online fame that was overly aspirational—or, more problematic, one that mocked at its subjects. I Love LA avoids both, creating a portrait of advantaged young adult living that’s candid about the grot and the shine.
“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
Layla is a seasoned journalist with over a decade of experience in Middle Eastern affairs, specializing in economic and social developments.