All’s Fair Series-Premiere Recap: C’mon, Gloves!

Ryan Murphy’s new Hulu show, All’s Fair — a glossy “legal drama” in which Kim Kardashian ranks higher on the call sheet than Glenn Close — follows a cutthroat, woman-led law firm representing high-profile clients in messy (and lucrative) divorces. But no legal team put to screen could ever be more impressive than the one that’s keeping Sarah Paulson bound to her contract with Murphy, even after she read the scripts for this show.

The premiere episode starts with a prologue set ten years prior, where we watch Allura Grant (Kardashian) and Liberty Ronson (Naomi Watts) break free of their patriarchal, traditional law firm with the support of their superior, Dina Standish (Close). As they strike out on their own to start a boutique firm, they poach Emerald Greene (Niecy Nash) to be their lead investigator and reject the homely Carrington Lane’s (Paulson) pleas to join them. First of all … these character names are giving “Zendaya is Meechee.” I’m half-expecting them to be competing in a Maxi Challenge on RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Whether or not this show wants to admit it, it is a full-blown soap opera, with almost beautifully ridiculous dialogue that begs to be delivered by the likes of Susan Lucci or Joan Collins. Aesthetically, it has a strong and distinct visual language, a trait that has become Murphy’s greatest strength as a producer: He knows how to make things that are exciting to look at, especially when it comes to portraying wealth (or abs). The high-glam, avant-garde fashion and opulent sets were clearly the first priority in making this show, and little, inconsequential details like character, plot, and dialogue were things they maybe worked on if they had a bit of free time between fittings. So it makes sense that nearly every scene looks like it was shot on a GlamBot with the bizarre scoring of a ’70s porno.

Every element of this show is equally heightened and untethered from anything resembling reality, and the only actor who rises to meet that moment is Paulson. She puts on an almost Jodie Foster– or Elizabeth Holmes–like voice, dropping an octave or so to play the revenge-minded antagonist who sends the firm and the “backstabbing bitches” running it a sickly-looking Edible Arrangement as they celebrate ten years in business. “In honor of your big milestone, I present you with a fruit basket, organic and lightly brushed with salmonella and fecal matter. Eat a melon ball, then maybe you can all give the Ozempic you’re mainlining a rest, you fat, treacherous lawn chairs,” the accompanying note reads. She’s basically what would happen if Vivian from Legally Blonde stayed evil.

But what about the cases? Well, first of all, we have Grace Gummer playing Grace Lee. They could come up with “Allura” and “Carrington,” but made Grace keep her name? All right. She plays a kept woman seeking to divorce her billionaire husband despite an ironclad prenup that will surely leave her with nothing. “C’mon, gloves!” Emerald says to the teary client about her fashion — a line that could be the show’s entire thesis. This entire show is “C’mon, gloves!” Her small settlement request makes them think something is afoot, and sure enough, Grace tells them that she’s leaving her husband for the woman he brought into their relationship for a threesome. Everything about him seems squeaky-clean, so Emerald does some investigating. She inconspicuously trails him despite being dressed like the Hamburglar the whole time, and sure enough she discovers that he frequents a dominatrix, played by Kate Berlant. When they bring this intel to the negotiation table, he signs the settlement they want without hesitation.

Then, we see Liberty get a frenzied phone call from another new client, Sheila Baskin, played by Judith Light. She’s locked herself in her bedroom in New York after getting caught cheating, and Liberty tells her to stay put until she gets there. She hops on a private jet and is there in no time, with her client still waiting locked in that room — telling us right away to grow accustomed to this show defying the laws of space and time. With yet another ironclad prenup on our hands, Liberty tells Sheila that the $40 million in jewelry her husband gifted her over the years will be her meal ticket. They pack up the jewels and walk out, an anticlimactic conclusion unworthy of a whole trip to New York. This entire case could have been an email — but then again, we’d have missed out on Light getting to sink her teeth into this ridiculousness.

With both of these cases being largely hollow and uninteresting, even despite the involvement of a traffic-cone-size butt plug, the burden is on Allura’s arc to grip us. Allura — a name that I still can’t believe I’ll have to type for ten episodes’ worth of recaps — is seemingly happily married to a younger football player named Chase, who looks like a knockoff of Sex and the City’s Smith Jerrod. But despite starting the episode by giving her a ring that belonged to Elizabeth Taylor for their five-year anniversary (we know Kim loves a Hollywood hand-me-down), he blindsides her at the end by asking for a divorce. Completely out of the blue, he tells her that her success makes him feel small and that he’s met someone else.

But do we care? Not at all. The show has yet to introduce us to these characters in any meaningful way beyond the glossy surface. So why would we root for them? Our lady-lawyer trio is endlessly successful, Über wealthy, gorgeous — and their fur-clad, classist fireside chat disparaging people who “start out working at gas stations” doesn’t help matters. (Oh, right, it’s worth noting that almost every single scene of this show has a roaring fireplace in the background despite it taking place in Los Angeles.) And while All’s Fair could have won us over to its cause had the cases been more benevolent or moral, the women’s work so far similarly lacks depth. They should be running a First Wives Club–esque firm for the downtrodden, and yet both of the cases in this premiere feel like soulless clerical work.

The only character that I have any investment in by episode’s end is Carrington, whom Paulson brings depth to through sheer commitment to a balls-to-the-wall performance. Yes, Carrington is technically supposed to be the villain, but at this point, we have much more reason to root for her than we do the series leads. Her performance is the most entertaining part of this show (perhaps tied with Nash’s hats), but she’s also the only character whose motivations are clearly laid out: She was snubbed by the cool girls ten years ago, her boss basically called her too unattractive to be a success, and now she’s fueled by revenge. And thus far, I hope she gets it.

Even the soapy revelation that Chase’s affair is with Allura’s receptionist, Milan (Teyana Taylor), isn’t enough to make us sympathize with this stiff caricature of wealth. Because without character depth, those soapy twists are just empty mechanics. There’s still time to get there, but it’s tough to see a pilot fail to introduce us to its lead characters so monumentally that I’m left thinking that Kim Kardashian deserves better as an actress. While a visual feast that gives some of its stars a chance to have fun, the show is empty calories. But then again, not too bad for an episode that was seemingly written in an afternoon.