If you were hoping for a sharp, incisive legal thriller, settle in—but you’ll do better finding water-board confidence workshops than compelling storytelling in All’s Fair. The series, which positions Kim Kardashian as Allura Grant—a slick divorce-law queen at the helm of an all-female law firm—is less legal drama than runway show masquerading as litigation.
Kardashian wears the power suit with the poise of a celebrity-executive, but she delivers the performance with all the emotional range of an Instagram filter. Her character’s pivotal-moment scenes are met with blank glances and wooden cadence—the kind of “intense courtroom stare” you’d expect if someone told you they banked a million dollars from that one TikTok.
The supporting cast, which includes seasoned players like Glenn Close and Sarah Paulson, try valiantly to elevate the proceedings, but even their best moments are undercut by script choices that seem to think “dramatic tension” means “everyone yells while wearing designer label suits.” The law-firm’s high stakes reduce quickly to a glam-filled loop of empowerment platitudes, cocktail chaos, and superficial one-liners, all wrapped in a sheen of “girl-boss” branding gone hollow.
The show’s visual polish is undeniable: the lighting, accessories, and catwalk posture of every scene scream big budget. But when you strip away the luxe aesthetic, you’re left with divorce cases that resolve quicker than a credit card interest calculation and character arcs flatter than an Instagram selfie caption. If the premise had been “what happens when courtroom clichés meet influencer energy,” fine—maybe the execution would land. But this is clearly meant to be taken seriously, which makes its failures feel more conspicuous.
So if you tune in anticipating the next leap in prestige television, you’ll likely join the chorus of viewers who feel pangs of disappointment—and maybe a few laughs at unintentional absurdity. If instead you go in expecting a hot mess of street-to-gown transitions, overly polished villainy, and lawyer-speak that sounds like it was generated by a trending-meme bot, then you might have found your guilty-pleasure couch companion. Either way, All’s Fair doesn’t do what it promises—it simply parades style without the substance to match.
