All’s Fair Review – Kim Kardashian’s Divorce Drama Is Existentially Awesome and Awful | television

I I didn’t know TV could still be made this bad. I assumed that there was some kind of baseline, some inescapable basic knowledge of how to do it that now prevents any entry into the art form from dipping below a certain level. But I was wrong. Ryan Murphy’s new series, All’s Fair — starring Kim Kardashian, Naomi Watts, and Niecy Nash as the founders of an all-female law firm providing divorce justice to incredibly rich but slightly down-on-her-luck women under azure California skies — is terrible. Stunningly, incomprehensibly, and existentially awful. As I try to sort out my thoughts after witnessing the first episode, I’ll give you some direct quotes, so you can see why I’m struggling.

“Let’s put ‘team’ in ‘teamwork’.”

“My flight was turbulent and so was my mood,” Liberty (Watts) tells a man who blocks her from reaching a client.

“He’s very possessive,” says one of her husband’s clients.

that it So Awful, it feels almost disdainful.

I looked up Julian Fellowes’ name in the credits, but that responsibility seems to all fall on Murphy and his creative partners, John Rubin Baetz and Joe Paquin. They are also executive producers, along with Kim K, her mother Kris Jenner, Watts, Glenn Close (who also had a small role as an early mentor to the heroes – I can’t imagine how much influence the Kardashian clan had on her that led to her involvement in this horrific business), Nash and many more. The list goes on for ages. I suspect there is a difference in the effect of the bystander effect (the more witnesses to a robbery, for example, the less likely anyone is to intervene). Therefore, the more executive producers are attached to it, the worse the show will be.

However, there is worse and then there is everything fair. Aside from the embarrassment of the scenario, there is the embarrassment of the performances; And while I understand that when someone — in this case, Murphy’s stalwart Sarah Paulson, who plays rival psychopathic “Mrs” attorney Carrington — is asked to shout “Are you calling me the ugly duckling? What if I give myself house passes? It’s economical!” while they trash her mentor’s office, they probably can’t do their best.

Kim K as Allura, married to a soccer star who resents the shadow her success casts over her own, is as expressionless as you might expect, but at least she’s offensively useless. Watts softens, grimaces, and poses in search of a character, reminding you of something like Ally McBeal at her worst, delivering her lines so archly that you can almost hear her joints crack. Guest stars are worse. Nash – an unstoppable force on screen – does best in a role whose comedic intent suits her well. But how come segments for black women are still written as just being loud! And shameless! I don’t know. The only good thing I’ve ever done is that it seems to be the nail in this coffin. But All’s Fair makes it look like Heimat.

If this was all part of a horribly campy drama that everyone plays with gusto and fills the narrative with eye candy, then Murphy might have gotten away with it. But no one seems to know what they are doing; The shows seem to respond to about nine different ideas about what a show should be and the plots are depressing. The trio (“You’re the best divorce lawyer in town — maybe the country”) wraps up several cases in the time it takes Kim K’s nail polish to dry. There’s the younger wife who falls in love with the woman her husband hires to have a threesome, then leaves 10 minutes later with a $210 million settlement once Nash gets video evidence of his extensive perversions. (“Grow your nipples” is all I’m willing to say here. Don’t let this tempt you to watch.)

There’s the older wife who’s been caught cheating (“He wasn’t even attractive! He was looking at me the way you used to look at me!”) and is about to be kicked out of their New York marital home by her billionaire husband (“The guy who owns, like, all the makeup”) until Liberty flies in on a private jet to tell her she can take $40 million worth of her jewelry with her. These revolve around two of the worst kissing scenes ever seen on screen, the collapse of Allura’s marriage, and a very unfashionable obsession with brand names (“Let’s get those Goyard suitcases and start stuffing!”) and conspicuous consumerism (“Oh my God – didn’t that belong to Elizabeth Taylor?”). All this, and the notion of female empowerment (“I’ve settled down… haven’t I loved myself enough?”) would have shamed the Spice Girls thirty years ago.

Too bad it’s not good. Anywhere nearby.

All’s Fair is now on Disney+.