Eat the Rich

Kim Kardashian’s New Hulu Show, All’s Fair, Is Wildly Tone-Deaf

If you were hoping for a show that reads like a love letter to late-stage capitalism, well, you’re in luck.

by Julie Sprankles
Niecy Nash, Glenn Close, Naomi Watts, and Kim Kardashian in 'All's Fair.'
Ser Baffo/Disney

Before the Kardashian Fan Club comes at me, please hear this: I wanted to like All’s Fair. I really did. The cast — Sarah Paulson, Glenn Close, Naomi Watts, Niecy Nash, Judith Light, Ed O’Neill — is incredible. Plus, it’s produced by Ryan Murphy, whose work I typically can’t get enough of.

But this ain’t it, friends.

As an entertainment editor, I watch a lot (read: probably too much) TV. Some good, some bad. Rarely do I struggle as much to get through the first three episodes as I did with All’s Fair.

ICYMI, the series follows a team of female divorce attorneys who leave a male-dominated firm to open their own practice. According to the official synopsis, “Fierce, brilliant and emotionally complicated, they navigate high-stakes breakups, scandalous secrets and shifting allegiances — both in the courtroom and within their own ranks. In a world where money talks and love is a battleground, these women don’t just play the game; they change it.”

Ermm... OK.

It's like it wants to be the feminist version of Suits meets Succession, with a little Sex and the City thrown in for good measure, but it plays more like a commercial for the .01%. And watching it right now feels downright dystopian: We're in the midst of the longest government shutdown in U.S. history, SNAP benefits are being withheld, housing costs are out of control, and grocery sticker shock is our new reality.

How did no one involved here read the f*cking room to realize how atrocious the timing is for a show like this?

To Kardashian’s credit, you can tell she’s doing her best. She probably invested in some acting classes, which might do fine in other settings, but when she’s sharing scenes with all-stars like Sarah Paulson and Glenn Close, it’s clear she’s out of her depth. It pulls the quality of the others’ acting down, too. They’re trying to meet her where she’s at, and it shows.

Even if that weren’t the case, the writing doesn’t help. The series smothers its real talent under layers of designer sheen and vapid storylines. As one reviewer so aptly put it, “It’s a patchwork of clichés.” All’s Fair tries to sell itself as a win for women, but it’s really just capitalism in a pastel power suit. It's giving "sponsored content" under the guise of "girlboss energy."

I’ve seen some defense of the series on social media that claims the show is great because it isn’t afraid to be bad, but I strongly disagree. Part of what makes the show so laughable is that you can tell they have no real perception of how ridiculous it all comes off. I can do high camp if it knows it’s high camp; just don’t give me high camp and try to convince me it’s high class.

Shows like Succession and Billions about the super-rich work because they offer a clever, skewering cross-examination of wealth. They lean into the inherent absurdity of having such an obscene amount of money. All’s Fair unironically worships it. It fails to actually critique the world that it glamorizes.

The result is a show that is drenched in tone-deaf opulence, completely out of touch with the moment we’re living in — a time when most of us are stressing over how to keep food on the table, not wondering which Birkin bag to bring to work. Watching this kind of wealth porn right now just feels gross.

All’s Fair obviously has budget. It has A-list stars and glossy marketing and mega-mansions with closets full of couture. What it doesn’t have is a point, or the self-awareness to realize that excess does not equal empowerment.