The term “influencer” often sparks strong opinions. Your initial reaction to it will likely foreshadow your feelings about HBO’s new series, I Love LA, a casual comedy created by and starring breakout talent Rachel Sennott. For those under 30, who may never have known a world without ubiquitous influencers, along with marketers and salespeople, the word generally carries neutral to positive connotations. (Some research indicates that aspires to influencerdom.) The older an individual is, the more probable it is they find influencer culture mildly awkward, even if they privately engage with it. Lastly, for the fortunate few who’ve never encountered the concept of an influencer, this review can be safely skipped in favor of more profound pursuits.
Part of a wave of shows by and about young adults (including ) emerging roughly a decade after Girls ignited widespread debate among millennials, I Love LA acknowledges the inherent perils of pursuing fame, success, and wealth for their own sake. Sennott keenly observes the absurdities of the influencer world and crafts some excellent jokes about it. However, her exploration of this contemporary form of celebrity remains so superficial for the majority of the 8-episode season that it’s difficult to determine if the show intends to critique shallowness or if it merely embodies it.
Sennott’s distinctive blend of awkwardness, intensity, and allure was a revelation in Shiva Baby and another dark comedy, , and nearly salvaged HBO’s critically panned pop-star series . She brings a similar dynamic to her portrayal of Maia, who yearns for a “big life” but has spent years as an assistant at the ambiguously named talent management firm Alyssa 180. The series opens on her 27th birthday morning, as she scrolls on her phone; experiences noisy sex with her amiable teacher boyfriend, Dylan () during an earthquake; and subsequently worries about frequent UTIs from the toilet while he brushes his teeth. This setup strongly echoes a West Coast Lena Dunham style. Yet, despite its candor, the series focuses more on ambition than on themes of sexuality or gender relations.
Aside from Dylan, who appears to be the sole grounded individual in all of Los Angeles, Maia is surrounded by self-absorbed fame-seekers. Her boss, Alyssa (portrayed by a shrewdly cast Leighton Meester), an occasionally intriguing take on the “girlboss” archetype, claims to be her mentor but grows evasive when promotions are mentioned. Maia’s capricious friends, Alani (True Whitaker) and Charlie (Jordan Firstman), are, respectively, a “nepo baby” with a nominal vice presidency at her famous father’s production company and an opinionated stylist who defers to minor pop singers.
The unexpected arrival of Maia’s former best frenemy, Tallulah (Odessa A’zion), a burgeoning New York influencer, presents both an opportunity and a risk. If Maia can sign Tallulah to Alyssa 180, her boss will be compelled to promote her to manager. However, the vivacious, unstrategic, and free-spirited Tallulah also tends to dominate attention, relegating Maia to a supporting role. I Love LA documents our Type A protagonist’s attempts to intertwine professional goals with personal ties, staking her aspirations for industry dominance on an “It girl” who might be too authentic to be a shrewd career investment.
Sennott and A’zion (the daughter of creator ) are a perfectly matched duo, with Sennott exuding nervous energy while A’zion effortlessly exudes charm and spontaneity. Some character development unfolds throughout the season: Maia questions the extent of her own ruthlessness, and Tallulah grapples with the distortion of her public image. Furthermore, the show shines with humor when it satirizes the subculture’s conventions, from at-home vitamin IVs and performative snack food brands to earnest praise for an influencer-branded Chipotle bowl. Guest stars are utilized judiciously and effectively. The overall experience is enjoyable but largely unremarkable. I continually hoped for indications that I Love LA offered more profound insights than its characters. Sennott never steps back to examine the motivations of those drawn to the influencer sphere, or whether any genuine meaning can be found in such seemingly vacuous work. Perhaps existential introspection is an extravagance for a generation that will likely face greater struggles for survival than any preceding one. Yet, if art is rooted in personal experience, why shy away from self-reflection?
