Spencer Pratt's Mayor Bid Divides Hollywood: Who's In, Who's Out

Spencer Pratt’s bid to become mayor of Los Angeles has done something remarkable in celebrity politics: it’s created actual ideological daylight. In early 2026, just over a year after the wildfires destroyed his home, the Hills alum announced he’d run as an independent community advocate—and the reactions from Hollywood reveal something deeper than the usual celebrity-endorsement noise.

The supporters read like a who’s who of people fed up with the status quo. David Foster and Katharine McPhee frame it plainly:“We are part of the exhausted majority that is begging for a clean and safe city for all Angelenos.”Mike‘The Situation’Sorrentino admires Pratt’s ability to speak openly about cost of living and homelessness without filtering through political machinery. Jamie Kennedy, a California native himself, argues that career politicians have failed and that Pratt represents something different—a man who’s seen the decline firsthand and wants to reverse it. Even Perez Hilton, calling himself a Spencer loyalist, praises the“strategic”messaging and argues people underestimate how intelligent Pratt actually is.

Then there’s Drew Droege, who doesn’t mince words. The comedian sees the whole thing as a stunt, a calculated move by someone shopping a reality show about being mayor. Droege points out that Pratt blocked critics online during the primary race—hardly the temperament for running a major city. For him, this isn’t about whether celebrities can lead (some could), but about what Pratt specifically stands for: ego-driven entertainment, not serious governance.

The real tension isn’t left versus right—Pratt has been a registered Republican since 2020 but disavows both parties. It’s between two visions of what Los Angeles needs: those who believe the city’s traditional leadership has catastrophically failed and needs an outsider shakeup, versus those who think outsiders with thin skin and no track record in governance are exactly the wrong answer. Pratt’s pitch is grounded in real pain—his house burned, he saw what the city couldn’t protect—but critics rightly ask whether that trauma translates into policy competence.

What’s genuinely interesting here is that neither camp is arguing in bad faith. The supporters aren’t just celebrity yes-people; they’re articulating something legitimate about institutional failure. The skeptics aren’t gatekeeping—they’re asking fundamental questions about whether running a major city should require actual experience in running anything. That’s the kind of debate Los Angeles could use more of.