All's Fair

"Let's fuck this cocksucker!"

When Kim Kardashian does her utmost to appear as the toughest and most ruthless divorce lawyer in the television world, it is difficult to refrain from laughing. Or no, let me back up and rephrase that; it's actually impossible not to scream with laughter, derisive laughter, because the Glee guy's new big production starring Kim K is downright horrible.

Reading the made-up names of the main characters will only keep you laughing, which I promise you will be followed by many, many more moments of ridiculousness in this show. Allura Grant (Kardashian) and Liberty Ronson (Watts) are the names of the two divorce lawyers who - after working as dogs and slaves for white, fat, greasy men at another firm - broke free and founded the all-female firm Grant, Ronson, and Greene. This firm specialises in divorces, and only the dirty divorces. They only represent women and there isn't a second in All's Fair that isn't about how disgusting men really are. The drum is pounded so hard that the eardrums bleed and so many already open doors are kicked in with the bluntest of shoes that it quickly becomes parodic. All's Fair is as miserable as expensive big productions rarely get. We're talking concentrated, slightly fascinating wretchedness here - drenched in that modern feminism where half-metre-deep cleavages are matched with witch-like behaviour. Something that, in this case, is meant to be cool, sassy and sexy - but in the end is just pathetic.

The script on which All's Fair is based is mostly written by the guy who once wrote Nip/Tuck, American Horror Story and is the showrunner of the Netflix Monster sequel. The way he mixes bitch-like power outbursts without finesse and class with roars, self-absorbed reflections on the world around us and tone-deaf monologues about our time here makes it absolutely feel like Murphy never touched the script but just put his name on it. Kim Kardashian is also so improbably bad in the role of leading lady Allura Grant that it almost feels like this is one big social experiment.

The rest of the cast is made up of big-name female film stars like Naomi Watts, Glenn Close and Sarah Paulson, but because they've all been forced to play characters with no sympathetic ability, they all come across as downright ultra-witches. Nothing works here, not even the expensive Prada suits and meticulously decorated designer offices. Personally, I would have thought that this could only work if a certain extensive script change had been made. This includes Peacemaker who should have been invited to blow up all four female witch lawyers with a well-placed grenade in episode two. It could have worked, but since it never did, it only remains for me to hand out our very lowest rating. TV series really don't get any worse than this.