All's Fair spoilers incoming…
Welcome to ‘Showtime with Emily Maddick’, in which Glamour’s Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director brings a unique perspective to the month's most hyped film or TV show. For November’s instalment, Emily takes on the new Ryan Murphy, Disney+ legal drama, All's Fair, starring Kim Kardashian, who, alongside her mother, Kris Jenner, both act as executive producers. And having seen the first episode, Emily argues that rather than watching a Ryan Murphy drama, it feels more like an episode of The Kardashians.
At the glittering Leicester Square premiere of Disney+’s much-hyped new Ryan Murphy legal drama, All’s Fair – centred on an all-female divorce attorney firm in LA – the all-star cast, including Sarah Paulson, Naomi Watts, Teyana Taylor, Niecy Nash-Betts and of course Kim Kardashian, were paraded up on stage to be interviewed. As per all premieres, there was the obligatory backslapping, fawning and self-satisfied superlatives sprayed about (Mr Disney+ Big Cheese must have called his show ‘amazing’ at least 10 times). And when the cast was then asked to describe All’s Fair, the Oscar-nominated actor, Naomi Watts, declared triumphantly: “And the show is… aspirational!” “Yes! Aspirational”, all her co-stars cooed in agreement.
And after sitting through the first episode of All’s Fair, if ‘aspirational’ is what they’re aiming for, then god help us all. For it seems that Ryan Murphy, arguably one of the hottest names in TV, with countless brilliant and diverse, award-winning shows under his belt, including Glee, American Horror Story, Pose, Scream Queens and Nip Tuck, has been fully Kardashian-ified. He’s drunk the Kris Jenner Kool Aid and the Murphy cinematic universe has been infected by this so-called ‘aspirational’ lifestyle the Kardashians dictate we should all be conforming to aspire to; which, in other words, translates as ‘behaving like a billionaire.’
And is it any wonder? Because the woman on the top of the billing, the executive producer, is indeed, the Kardashi-matriarch, Kris Jenner, whose ‘Kris Jenner Productions’ appears alongside ‘Ryan Murphy Television’ in the credits. So coupled with Kim (also an exec producer) at the top of the call sheet - her character, Allura Grant is, if the pilot is anything to go by, very much the star of the show – the pecking order is clear and we are very much indeed in a Kris Jenner production. (Murphy even pitched the show to Kris on an episode of The Kardashians.)
She will executive produce, alongside mum Kris Jenner and American Horror Story's Ryan Murphy.
The story of an all-female divorce attorney firm borne out of a misogynistic, male-dominated one, where three rising female hotshots set up on their own under the mentoring of Glenn Close, going on to win hordes of female clients bazillions of dollars, should, on paper, be a great, kick-ass, feminist show. Especially in Murphy’s hands. But, from the word go, we’re force-fed ‘aspiration’ akin to posts from either Kris, Kourtney, Khole, Kim, Kendall or Kylie’s social feeds or indeed from any episode of fellow Disney+ show, The Kardashians.
Listen, I don’t want to come across a reality TV snob here, nor indeed a Kardashi-hater – in many ways, I have respect for their phenomenal power and status in our popular culture, despite their problematic nature at times. It's also impressive that Kim, following her late, famous attorney father's footsteps, is currently retraining to be a lawyer herself IRL. Nor do I want to be a Debbie Downer, as I know that some of Murphy’s shows are often, by lore, all infused with a certain outrageous level of camp, fun and OTT – and we’re not expected to take it all that seriously.
But in All’s Fair, what should be camp feels flat, and what is trying to be outrageous and fun actually feels hollow and empty. The lifestyles of our heroines – the divorce attorneys Allura (Kim K), Liberty Ronson (Watts) and Emerald Greene (Nash-Betts) – are splurged all over the screen in those slo-mo, drawn-out, amped up shots that have become the trademark of all such reality shows from The Kardashians to Selling Sunset through to any of The Real Housewives franchises.
In other words, we're shown close-ups of souped-up sports cars growling on the driveways of multimillion-dollar LA mega-mansions that are vast glass pantheons of wealth and sterile living. Filler shots of chauffeurs, champagne and colossal walk-in closets with pristine designer clobber glistening and gleaming from glass shelves centred around trays and trays of priceless jewels assault the viewer's senses between almost every scene.
Indeed, millions of dollars worth of jewellery becomes the centre of two of the plotlines in the first episode. From a gift of Elizabeth Taylor’s ring, bestowed on Allura, by her cheating younger husband, to $40 million worth of trinkets that Liberty helps salvage from her Upper East Side client wanting a divorce. It all feels icky; like an orgy of vulgarity where greed rules, love means nothing and we're somehow being forced to feel we should all want to revel in this world too.
The show feels flat, lacking feeling, emotion, or charm, despite its high-paced plot and dramatic content. Only Sarah Paulson is a stand-out (of course she is) as the rival divorce attorney and sworn frenemy, Carrington Lane.
To be fair, script-wise, there are some brilliant, if a little crass, one-liners – delivered mainly by Emerald Greene (Niecy Betts), sample: “from cocktails to cock rings in 24 hours”. However, the entire premise of the show feels like it lacks depth. As does Kim’s acting. She speaks in what comes across as an AI monotone throughout. And even when her younger husband Chase Munroe (Matthew Noszka) ends their marriage and she learns he’s been cheating on him, she does not (can not?) show one flicker of emotion on her perfect face. No tears, no rage, no pain. Not even when her law firm partners and BFFs come over to console her does she show one iota of sadness and rattles off trite, emotionless platitudes about ‘not having enough self-worth’ and not ‘loving herself enough’ and sounding like a femme bot.
In fact, the only time her beautiful face belies any emotion is when they all swoop her up in a cluster hug of feathers and Fendi to declare that to cheer her up, they’re immediately going to whisk her off by private jet to Manhattan to sink a few million on some auction-house jewellery and finish the day with martinis and oysters. “Now that does sound like a pretty good day,” she retorts, a flicker of a smile finally penetrating through.
As for the ‘female empowerment’ messaging, again, the pilot didn’t leave me with much hope. When Naomi Watts’ character Liberty also hops on a private jet to Manhattan to rescue a client, whom we’re initially led to presume is a long-suffering Upper East Side septuagenarian who has finally given her philandering husband the boot, we quickly learn that it is in fact the husband who is the wronged party and she the philanderer. But no matter that he (a cameo from James Remar aka Richard from Sex and the City lol) is chasing her down Park Avenue declaring his love, devotion and devastation. No, Liberty has a cunning plan to secure her client $40million despite her being entirely in the wrong: just take all the jewellery he’s ever given you over the years and flog it at Christie’s she advises. See? A true win for feminism and the law.
So if you're obsessed with chasing a lifestyle of money, revenge and a soulless devotion to capitalism with an occasional witty aside (thanks, Sarah Paulson and Niecey Nash-Betts), then go for your life and binge the whole of All's Fair. I for one, won't be.
**All's Fair is streaming on Disney+ now. **
For more from GLAMOUR's Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director, Emily Maddick, follow her on Instagram @emilymaddick.
