There were a bunch of lines in the first episode of All’s Fair that we rolled our eyes at, but there were some that made us laugh out loud. Much of that has to do with who’s delivering those lines, but some of that also has to do with the general outlandishness of the show in general. .... The cases themselves are entertaining, and haven’t entered the realm of 9-1-1-level ridiculousness yet.

All’s Fair is cotton-candy TV: sticky, airy, and, once it’s all gone, both satisfying and nausea inducing.

It takes a special talent to make something so fascinatingly dull, especially with a cast this strong. No words yet invented can fully convey just how much you need to avoid this disastrous show.

In many ways, All’s Fair is simply bad. You don’t have to worry about Kardashian holding her own among Close, Nash-Betts, Watts, and the rest. No one’s performance in this show is what you would conventionally describe as good; they match each other in hysteria and shallowness. All the overacting can’t conceal how underwritten the characters are. .... I find it even harder to predict where All’s Fair is heading than it has been to grasp what it’s trying to do, let alone why anyone would attempt such a project. The only winner, so far, is the brands.

Everyone in “All’s Fair” is a stock caricature from a man’s idea of a woman’s drama. It’s a cavalcade of wigs and screeching in search of truth, but Murphy seems to have lost the magic touch that made his work so appealing for so long. His snark has rotted into contempt, for audience and art alike.

Scenes start, jarringly, without introduction or fanfare, as though we’ve been vaulted into the action; the plot resists all attempts by the viewer to impose any kind of order. .... The writing suggests that ChatGPT was asked to emulate Fifty Shades’ E. L. James, and however cringeworthy and brand-name-peppered that sounds, I can promise you it’s so much worse.

Fascinatingly, incomprehensibly, existentially terrible.