On the surface, Rachel Sennott's I Love LA is about a tight-knit, ambitious friend group learning to navigate life and love in LA. That's how HBO describes the series, at least. From this, one might assume that I Love LA is the newest addition to a roster of shows that includes the likes of Friends, Girls and Broad City — beloved coming-of-age series that center friendships where the focus is, at its core, the characters' relationships to others and self.
But in I Love LA, Los Angeles is the character in question. Unlike its peers, the new HBO series is less interested in the dynamics of the friend group itself and more concerned with the far-reaching tentacles of a city that has the power to make you as quickly as it can eat you alive — all while documenting your rise and fall on the internet.
I Love LA revolves around a 20-something talent manager named Maia, played by Rachel Sennott, who decides to take on her former best friend and rising social media star, Tallulah (Odessa A'zion), as a client. Their circle is comprised of Charlie (Jordan Firstman), an insecure stylist who desperately cares about climbing LA's social ladder, and Alani (True Whitaker), the show's (and real life) nepo baby. Each character seems to represent a modern Los Angeles stereotype, with the exception of Dylan (Josh Hutcherson), who plays the voice of reason as the supportive, lowkey boyfriend to an ambitious, extraverted Maia. With a cast including cameos from former vine star Quenlin Blackwell, I Love LA intentionally taps those who have come up online in one way or another, many alongside Sennott, who was initially known for her Twitter comedy and went viral in 2019 for mocking LA in an Instagram video set to Azealia Banks' "212."
The show begins with Tallulah coming back to Maia's life after a lengthy falling out. When Tallulah shows up unexpectedly at Maia's apartment with a Balenciaga bag and thousands of Instagram followers under her belt, the show's primary conflict seems to be between the two of them, because: is being the manager of your former best friend really the best idea? But as the season unfolds and Maia gets increasingly wrapped up in their careers, it becomes clear that the real tension isn't entirely interpersonal, but rather lies between each character and a city that is trying to break them under the warmth of its sun-kissed glow.
For many people who grew up on the internet, LA has a reputation of being a theme park for social media influencers, nepo babies and washed up YouTubers. And to that, I Love LA says, you're right. The show understands that in order for viewers to take it seriously, it cannot do the same. When Maia finds out on her 27th birthday that Tallulah was in the Marc Jacobs' Heaven campaign without her, a nod to the designer's collection popular amongst Gen-Z, Alani responds with an astrological explanation: "27 is the start of your Saturn return, so everything that feels bad right now is actually good." References to star signs, famous private schools in LA and internet celebrities might sound gibberish to those who didn't grow up in the area, in a certain zip code, or on social media, but that's the point: I Love LA doesn't just walk into traps around internet culture and the massive industry that has spawned from it — it lays them out for you.
The 30-minute, episodic format of I Love LA, Sennott's first credit as a creator, plays to the actor's comedic strengths of witty one-liners and creating characters that feel relatable. (The series also includes Sennott's directing debut.) Over the last few years, the NYU graduate has made a career from embodying Gen-Z and millennial cringe — from starring in Comedy Central miniseries Ayo and Rachel are Single to her breakthrough lead role in indie favorite Shiva Baby to 2023's Bottoms alongside Ayo Edebiri. In I Love LA, there's a reason that despite each character's obvious flaws, most of which are driven by ego and insecurities, you still find yourself rooting for them. The show is shrouded in a self-awareness around the fact that, in LA, making popular 30-second videos on TikTok can get you cozy with A-listers. Buying into the glitz and the glam is part of the ridiculousness of a city dubbed "la-la-land" for a reason. It's a perspective that someone like Sennott is apt to bring as an LA outsider who grew up on the East Coast.
I Love LA is the culmination of Sennott's career thus far — a show for anyone who grew up "chronically online" and for whom "making it" means waking up and asking "how did I get here?" before putting on a mini-skirt and stilettos to meet with a micro-celebrity they pretend to like. "Hustle until your idols become your rivals," Maia says to hype herself up in the mirror. Because isn't that part of the fun?
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