All's Fair is a disaster all around Kim Kardashian, Naomi Watts, and Glenn Close are the protagonists of Ryan Murphy's new series
It would be easy to make fun of All’s Fair. So easy, in fact, that it becomes almost impossible to do so. Like when something is so bad that it loops around and starts to become enjoyable, invoking ideas of kitsch or camp. Ryan Murphy’s new original series, however, never manages that loop. Instead, it dives headfirst into a funnel of confusion, trapping the viewer in its emptiness, leaving them more stunned than amused, more speechless than ready to joke about it. It’s actually difficult to mock the show. It feels so irredeemable that there’s no point in piling on. But what you feel while watching the episodes - the first three of which premiered on Disney+ on November 4 - isn’t anger or frustration. It’s disbelief and disappointment. Disappointment in seeing some of the most talented actresses of their generation involved (or imprisoned?) in Ryan Murphy’s latest creation.
Kim Kardashian stars in Ryan Murphy’s new series
Let’s start with Kim Kardashian. The most famous of the famous leads a group of divorce lawyers who, ten years earlier, decided to leave their male-dominated, outdated law firm to start their own practice, become millionaires, and stick it to the patriarchy. All fine in theory, except their mission quickly turns into everything feminism shouldn’t be: pettiness, cruelty, revenge, and unethical behavior, all justified in the name of the cause. Instead, these choices reinforce a warped, anti-empowering vision of female emancipation and self-determination. A serious mistake, compounded by poor direction and uneven performances, making All’s Fair not only messy but also tonally confusing. A show that trivializes real struggles and distorts the idea of self-made women into something shallow and toxic.
What’s most shocking is the robotic, almost lobotomized stiffness that defines the main characters (and everyone around them). Dressed in ultra-chic outfits, they move through sets that look like they were decorated by Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. The visuals evoke a sense of artificiality that, today, only AI could achieve. Ryan Murphy’s signature flair - extravagant, over-the-top, and gleefully controversial - is usually his calling card. This time, though, there’s no style to speak of, and certainly no taste. All’s Fair radiates secondhand embarrassment, the kind that makes you want to shout at Glenn Close, Sarah Paulson, Niecy Nash, Naomi Watts, and Teyana Taylor: “Why? Why did you do this to yourselves?”
A critical and public failure
With zero stars from The Guardian and a score that crawled from 0% to 6% on Rotten Tomatoes (with audiences seemingly enjoying it more as a form of rebellion against critics than genuine appreciation), All’s Fair aims to be shocking, provocative, and witty. Instead, it’s one of the most wasted opportunities in recent TV history, a mess of direction and editing that seems to have forgotten what storytelling even is, and a colossal misuse of talent that’s hard to stomach. Worst of all, it’s not even bad enough to be funny. Murphy’s divorce lawyers have managed to rob us even of that.
