All’s Fair Is So Bad, It Might Be High Art

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If you’re one of the 44 million people who’s watched the trailer for All’s Fair on YouTube, you might expect a typical, glamorous legal drama from co-creator Ryan Murphy, filled with stars and plenty of drama. But the show is actually much more than that. After watching the first three episodes now available on Hulu (with new episodes released every Tuesday), it’s clear that All’s Fair both feels familiar – like some of the most popular shows centered around women – and offers something completely fresh and unique on television.

Trying to make sense of how bizarrely familiar this show is will really push my ability to analyze it, but I’ll try: “All’s Fair” is a wild fantasy about a woman who finds empowerment through a massive divorce payout. It feels like a Shonda Rhimes drama dialed up to eleven, fueled by wellness trends, and written by people with no sense of reality. Think of it as “The First Wives Club,” but with characters who have no conscience. It’s like a multi-generational workplace version of “Sex and the City,” except there’s no sex, the city doesn’t matter, and it’s not actually funny. Or, it could be a deliberately strange, artistic commentary on how the optimistic wave of feminism from the Trump era ultimately fell apart, with the #MeToo movement being its final, desperate act.

Even if that’s true, “All’s Fair” feels more like a lengthy advertisement for a wide range of brands – including Ryan Murphy, the Kardashian-Jenners (Kim stars in the show and Kris is an executive producer), Hermès, Mercedes-Benz, Naomi Watts, Glenn Close, Gucci, Niecy Nash, Le Bernardin, Goyard, Teyana Taylor, Mr. Chow, Sarah Paulson, Sotheby’s, Christie’s, Judith Light, and Chanel, among many others. It even features luxury jewelry galore, like a diamond ring previously owned by Elizabeth Taylor, presented in a Tiffany box. Watching the show is similar to flipping through a glossy women’s magazine – you see beautiful images and quick quotes, but it doesn’t delve into any real substance.

The story begins around the time Beyoncé made a statement about feminism during an awards show. Two young lawyers, Allura Grant and Liberty Ronson, were tired of the sexism they faced at their firm. They decided to start their own law practice, focusing exclusively on divorces for women. They brought on a colleague, Emerald Greene, as a partner and investigator, and received encouragement from their mentor, Dina Standish. They turned down a request from a competitive coworker, Carrington Lane, to join them in their new venture.

Grant, Ronson & Greene is now a hugely successful firm, celebrating its tenth anniversary. The partners are all very wealthy, travel by private jet, and enjoy a lavish lifestyle. One episode shows them discussing elaborate and costly beauty treatments—it feels almost like an advertisement. Even the receptionist, Milan, is studying to be a lawyer and is treated like one of the group. Dina eventually reconnects with her former assistants, meeting them at a large, circular office that also serves as a library. Meanwhile, Carr has created her own successful business, but she’s still angry about being left behind. She delivers cutting insults and sends a pointed message with a gift for the firm, calling the partners unkind and disloyal. Unlike the others, Carr isn’t portrayed as a supportive friend—and that makes her a compelling, if unlikeable, character.

The show doesn’t focus much on legal practice, especially in the beginning. Don’t anticipate dramatic courtroom battles. Instead, the clients – portrayed by recognizable faces like Light, Elizabeth Berkley, and Jessica Simpson – are all seeking payback against wealthy, awful ex-partners. These men have fortunes of $150 million or more and seemingly solid prenuptial agreements, which the firm, GRG, always manages to find a way around, usually through investigation and occasional bribes. The clients don’t get a lot of screen time, and honestly, they’re all pretty similar.

The show focuses more on the personal lives and rivalries of the lawyers than on their actual cases. Allura’s husband, Chase, unexpectedly ends their marriage right after giving her an extravagant ring, leading to a complicated divorce that adds drama to the firm’s work. Meanwhile, Liberty’s new boyfriend wants a committed relationship, Emerald juggles her career with raising three grown sons who help with her investigations, and Dina hides her desires while caring for her sick husband. These personal stories are what the characters spend most of their time discussing, often in conversations that feel more at home in a trendy brunch spot than a law office.

Honestly, All’s Fair isn’t very good. You don’t need to worry about the Kardashians being overshadowed by the talented cast – nobody really delivers a strong performance. Everyone seems to be trying too hard, resulting in performances that feel both frantic and superficial. The overacting can’t hide the fact that the characters themselves aren’t well-developed. Aside from one character played by Carr, who is only mildly bearable, everyone falls flat. The dialogue tries to be clever and witty, like something Oscar Wilde or Dorothy Parker might write, but it mostly comes across as the kind of empty one-liners you’d hear on The Real Housewives. Think lines like, “My flight was rough, and so is my mood,” or forced statements about power and identity. It’s all just… exhausting. The show feels like it’s trying too hard to be profound, and it’s deeply irritating.

The show’s focus on wealth, appearances, and a ‘success at any cost’ mentality feels very much like a reflection of the Kardashian-Jenner family’s brand. Interestingly, Kim Kardashian is studying to become a lawyer herself, but she wasn’t involved in writing these episodes. The scripts were primarily written by a team of three men – Murphy, Baitz, and Baken – with minimal female creative input. This raises questions about the show’s intent, suggesting it aims to bypass critical thought and directly appeal to base desires, seemingly based on a narrow and potentially offensive idea of what women want. It’s possible the show tries so hard to please its target audience that it ends up being condescending instead.

I’m starting to think there’s more to this show than meets the eye, especially as the premiere episodes wrapped up. The creator’s pointed dismissal of terms like ‘feminism’ feels like they know the old-school ‘girl power’ vibe of the firm isn’t what it used to be. I’m really curious to see where the storylines about infertility and Hari Nef’s character – a trans woman with a past – will go. It could genuinely challenge the self-focused feminism we’ve seen so far, but honestly, it could also fall flat and be really insensitive. To be honest, I have no idea where this show is ultimately headed, or even what it’s trying to say. Right now, it feels like the only ones truly benefiting are the brands involved.

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2025-11-05 19:07