Rachel Sennott created I Love LA in her own image (classic broad comedy filtered through Gen Z cool cynicism), but it took until episode six (“Game Night”) to really allow herself to fully allow audiences to see her outlandish comedic stylings. Until now, her Maia has been a rather stable (and stabilizing) figure, a straight man of sorts who—compared with a gay sociopath, an aloof nepo baby, and a messy influencer—felt like she had it all under control. Of the central quartet that makes up I Love LA, she’s the one, after all, who has a steady gig and a sense of welcome and well-aimed ambition. So it was very fun to see Maia (and Sennott) let loose a bit and go full unhinged.
And it all begins with Ritz Crackers. Maia has booked Tallulah (Odessa A’zion) for a brief appearance in a Ritz Crackers ad, which we find they’re shooting at a lot in L.A. It’s a step, it seems, in the right direction for influencer and manager alike. It’s not a Balenciaga ad (it’s closer to the Kia social deal from last week), but it’s establishing Maia as someone who can close deals. And Tallulah, who has very little sense of what she wants to do with her social-media fame (as we learned at the party at Elijah Wood) seems happy to take the paycheck and enjoy the novelty of being on set. (“Picture’s up in ten!” they both squeal with glee, mimicking the PA nearby.)
Only Tallulah continues to be distracted by calls from Tessa (Moses Ingram), which prompts an awkward interaction between Maia and the Ritz Crackers rep: Yes, Tallulah has a girlfriend, Maia admits, but she’s always dated both men and women. It’s okay, Maia’s told: “Don’t worry, we love that she’s a lesbian.” It’s an odd thing to say, but very in line with liberal corporatespeak—and, in true I Love LA form, it’ll come back to haunt them both.
With Ritz Crackers and Kia in the back mirror, Maia is ready to keep climbing the Alyssa 180 corporate ladder: She nabbed herself a spot near her boss at the Forbes photo shoot (while sporting a very Nancy Pelosi bob/styling). It’s there that she establishes herself as a canny PR girl, able to spin a gotcha question from the writer working on the piece when the conversation shifts to how Alyssa 180 was born out of Alyssa’s past experiences at her old job. Talk of the “old boys’ club” lets Maia make a girlboss-like argument for why she so enjoys working with Alyssa—all before she gets a note from a secret admirer (who addresses her as “Lewinsky”) insisting they do lunch later that day.
That’s the moment when I felt like I Love LA may finally be nailing something about Gen Z Los Angeles that would elevate it from the mere comedic, sketch-like scenarios it’s been toying with in this first run of episodes. The note was from Maia’s old boss, whom she interned for and who, by the way she all but shrinks into girlish wine-induced giggles in his presence, clearly was all too happy to lord a rakish power-imbalanced charm over his underling. They’re flirting at a dusty, old-timey spot but they’re also talking business: “Is Alyssa afraid of you yet?” he asks her, hinting at a kind of craven ambition and unbridled potential we haven’t quite seen from her yet. There’s an edge to how he talks to her, and while demure, it’s obvious Maia loves seeing herself through his eyes: “There are only two people in this world—” he pontificates, with the assuredness you’d expect from a New York PR guy, “those who step into a hurricane and those who run away from it.” Which one is she? (Maia’s answer that she’d run toward it but wouldn’t want to get wet may be the most on-point character-revealing line she’s uttered this entire show. Will the season lead her into embracing the idea of getting wet—getting dirty, really—in order to succeed? Let’s hope!)
Thankfully, she’s wise enough to leave the dangerously flirty banter aside and drunkenly amble her way home where Dylan (Josh Hutcherson) is hosting game night with some of his school colleagues, arguably the most incongruous place a tipsy, horny Maia could wish to crash. But crash she does.
Meanwhile, Charlie (Jordan Firtsmann), Alani (True Whitaker), and Tallulah head to Lucas Landry’s funeral. To mourn him, yes. But also, perhaps, for the attention. Little did they know that this would be the hottest ticket in town, with fans crowding the church so much that they’d be moved to the second overflow area (yes, this funeral had two overflow areas and a very L.A. bouncer happily waving people away from the main VIP-esque area). It’s there Charlie is approached by Andrew (Augusto Aguilera), his onetime fuck buddy who’s at the funeral with “Sideburns,” a.k.a. the guy he’s now dating. It’s an awkward moment for all involved because Charlie cannot cope with the fact that this guy he kept at arm’s length while they were fooling around had turned around and found himself a man who wanted actual intimacy.
Charlie may claim that Andrew approaching him is near-sociopathic. But anyone noticing how bruised he is by seeing (the aggressively handsome) Andrew come up to him with kindness knows that he’s more than a bit melancholic about the situation. At least he still has their sex tape(!), which, on Alani’s suggestion, they now decide he needs to dispose of. And this sends the two of them into their own little subplot to find the tape (an actual tape—what is, the ’90s?) on which that moment of candid intimacy was once captured.
Oh yeah, if you’re wondering, no they didn’t stay at the funeral all that long anyways. It’s while they’re walking that the three of them come face to face with, well, Tallulah’s own face (a full, life-sized body shot, actually) on a queer-themed Ritz Cracker painted billboard (“Ritz supports LGBTQ+ storytellers”). Which is hilarious and horrifying in equal measure.
And so, while Alani and Charlie go to an old-school electronics store to find out which tape has the sex tape (which they get to screen in a dingy back of the store, where our conflicted stylist gets teary once he realizes the tape is turning him on), Tallulah tries to huddle herself away with Tessa, who offers her the kind of pep talk she needs: We all do crazy things for paychecks; you just gotta move on and put it behind you. The way she illustrates this? An old clip of her on a morning show rapping along to modified Hamilton lyrics as she shows viewers how to make a Hamilton-themed brunch. It’s awful and yet again proof that Ingram can do anything. That secondhand embarrassment is enough for Tallulah to feel better and to offer, perhaps, the best punchline in the episode: “What’s Hamilton?” (Funnily enough, the two do choose to do something about the billboard, which had become a social-media punching bag: Later that night, they throw white paint at it in what is later described as a “hate crime” on TV.)
But all of that pales in comparison to the craziness of Maia, drunk and horny in her own home, having to sit through what sounds like the most boring board-game night of all time, all while creating for herself a world in which Dylan is cheating on her with the young, gorgeous teacher Claire. This is Sennott at her best: Every move she makes as Maia (dressed, if you notice, as a kind of corporate schoolgirl) trying to get Dylan hot (“You’re so hot when you’re mad”), rile up Claire (“Gun to your head: Who here would you fuck?”), or all around disrupting this stuffy game night with normies from school shows exactly why she excels at uncomfortable situations that make you laugh and wince in equal measure. This is a messy trainwreck you cannot look away from. (If you’ve not seen Shiva Baby, this scene alone should be enough to nudge you that way to witness more of Sennott’s ability to toy with this very comedic sensibility.)
All she does, of course, is run everyone away—all while pissing off Dylan, who cannot comprehend why Maia is doing any of this at all. That the night ends with the two of them fucking forcefully in their bedroom (while Maia fantasizes about her old boss, who’s sent her an umbrella “for the hurricane” that very night) is proof once more that the two may be more ill-matched than it seems.
Credit to director Lorene Scafaria, who ends the episode with a close-up of Dylan’s post-coital, shame-filled face. It’s a picture of a man hating himself for what he’s just allowed himself to do—and who may be starting to see Maia in a new light.
Stray observations
- • Who knew “funeral chic” would be an apt way to describe how Charlie, Alani, and Talullah decided to dress themselves for Landry’s overcrowded church send-off?
- • I now need to know more about what else Alani’s psychic told her about the deaths of her friends. Apparently Charlie will die at the fountain at the Americana ,which does sound like the most ridiculous way to (live and) die in L.A.
- • I wish we’d gotten to see the full Ritz ad, if only to catch how ridiculous it actually was. Did you notice the champagne flutes full of Ritz crackers?
- • Who will be the first to map out all the places I Love LA filmed at (including Colombo’s Italian Steakhouse & Jazz Club) to make the case that we need more shows like these that embrace shooting around the city?
- • Most soul-crushingly too-online moment: a backflip for a TikTok at Landry’s funeral or Landry’s #BlessUp hashtag at the same?
Manuel Betancourt is a contributor to The A.V. Club.
