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Commentary: With ‘All’s Fair,’ Ryan Murphy gives us the ultimate Trump-era TV show

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Commentary: With ‘All’s Fair,’ Ryan Murphy gives us the ultimate Trump-era TV show

Sarah Paulson appears to be having a blast in Ryan Murphy’s new Hulu “legal” drama “All’s Fair,” and that’s about the only good thing about the show.

The New York Times recently ran a piece extolling its reimagining of the power suit (down to at least one visible thong) and I suppose that’s one way of avoiding the obvious. Still, I’m going to stick with Paulson’s obvious glee in playing a villain. Her Carrington Lane was left behind to fester in the comic-book sexism of a male-dominated divorce law firm when two of her colleagues stalked away to form an all-female team and Carrington is not one to surrender a grudge.

It’s impossible not to like Paulson and she is clearly enjoying the opportunity to glare and hiss and indulge in the kind of gross but creative profanity Melissa McCarthy likes to unleash when her characters hit the brink.

As for the rest … well, let’s just say with “All’s Fair,” American culture is getting exactly what it deserves: A series that wallows in the shiny, knockoff-ready trappings of new money (immaculate and soulless homes, private jets, diamonds the size of a Rubik’s Cube), defines “sisterhood” as the belief that any personal crisis can be alleviated by vaginal rejuvenation combined with a girls’ trip to a jewelry auction and gauges power by the ability to plot and take revenge. Preferably in the form of huge amounts of money.

“All’s Fair” may or may not be, as some have said, the worst show of the year (or possibly of all time), but with its celebration of the 1%, personal feuds and financial vengeance, it is certainly the first to truly embody the culture of the Trump presidency.

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Down to the reality star at its center. “All’s Fair” gives top billing not to any of the fine and seasoned actors that star — Paulson, Niecy Nash, Naomi Watts, Glenn Close — but to Kim Kardashian, who plays Allura Grant, head of the law firm Grant, Ronson and Greene.

Niecy Nash, left, Glenn Close and Kim Kardashian are among the stars of Ryan Murphy’s new Hulu drama “All’s Fair.”

(Ser Baffo / Disney)

That Kardashian (and Kris Jenner, who serves as a producer) were able to summon such forces of the galaxy to showcase her, shall we say, limited thespian abilities could be justifiably viewed as yet another “you go, girl” testament to her seemingly limitless business acumen.

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On the other hand, “All’s Fair” makes the dismal final season of “And Just Like That” look like Chekhov.

Murphy, and the forces at Disney, which owns Hulu, the home of “The Kardashians,” understand Kardashian’s cult-like following and are operating under the assumption that viewers will be so entranced by her and the fashions (which include an alarming amount of hats, capes and gloves) that they won’t notice that the main player is relying on her eyelash extensions to do her acting for her.

To be fair to Kardashian, few nonprofessional actors would shine beside scene partners like Close, Watts and Nash, and the writing of the series, which flirts with camp but never fully commits, does no one any favors.

Not since “Charlie’s Angels” has there been a “feminist fantasy” with such a male gaze. (Apologies to “Charlie’s Angels,” which was in many ways a groundbreaking show.)

After suffering on the sidelines of a mostly male law firm, Allura and Liberty Ronson (Watts) decide to branch out on their own. They do so with the blessing of Dina Standish (Close), that firm’s only female partner, and take with them ace investigator Emerald Greene (Nash). When we meet them again, 10 years later, Allura also has an assistant/mentee in Milan (Teyana Taylor), who later provides a predictable plot twist.

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The names alone suggest a level of parody, and, in the first episode, a send-up quality flits in and out of the proceedings, but the show chooses cynicism over satire every time.

Instead of sexist jokes, the partners of Grant, Ronson and Greene spend much of their time discussing how awful men are, with the possible exception of Liberty’s beau, Reggie (“The Handmaid’s Tale’s” O-T Fagbenle), and Standish’s ailing husband, Doug (Ed O’Neill).

That is, after all, the raison d’etre of the firm: Grant, Ronson and Greene are intent on protecting rich women from the perils of the prenup and generally making the bastards pay, sometimes through their “superior” knowledge of the law (in one storyline, this involves explaining that gifts are the sole property of the recipient, which even I knew), but more often blackmail (if you have chosen to live your life without ever seeing a butt plug the size of a traffic cone, keep your eyes shut when Emerald starts her slideshow).

A brief, and seemingly contractually required, mention of the firm raising money to help the underprivileged is laughable — “All’s Fair” is 100% après-moi television, in which extreme wealth is presented as too normal to even be aspirational, and any work not done by Emerald consists of sashaying in super slick shades from one successful throwdown to the next. With brief interludes in sumptuous cars and, as previously mentioned, overbidding on hideous brooches at a high-end jewelry auction (held by a firm client, which honestly seems potentially unethical, but whatevs).

If the dialogue were sharp, funny or even self-aware, Murphy and his team might get away with it, but it’s not — “It’s a shame your mother didn’t swallow,” Dina tells Carrington in what passes as proof that women can be as tough as men. Or that older women can talk trash. Or that Close will do her best to give a decent reading of any line. Or something.

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There are brief nods to the women’s personal lives — as a divorce lawyer, Liberty is reluctant to marry Reggie, Dina is struggling with Doug’s decline, Emerald is a super-single mom — but it all feels very box-ticky. Including Allura’s disintegrating marriage, which becomes a major plot point as the gals gather round to make that bastard pay as well, and her realization that if she wants to become a mother, she’s running out of time.

Matthew Noszka tries to hold back Sarah Paulson, who lunges at Niecy Nash and Kim Kardashian from across a conference table.

Reading the zeitgeist, the creators of “All’s Fair” were clearly not looking for raves or awards, just viewers.

(Disney)

In many ways, “All’s Fair” is an American version of the excellent British series “The Split,” which follows a matriarchal family of female divorce lawyers. Early on, one of the daughters (played by Nicola Walker) leaves the family firm and, in her own way, attempts to right the wrongs often done to women facing divorce from rich and powerful men while dealing with her own marital breakdown and a family with actual children.

But “American version” doesn’t really cut it. This is Trump’s-America version, in which ethics, morals and virtually all human feeling are secondary to winning, and winning is defined by who ends up making their opponent pay.

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Between Kardashian’s conspicuous nonacting and dialogue that often seems lifted from the all-caps regions of X, “All’s Fair” has, not surprisingly, received a critical drubbing. Which seems almost intentional.

Critics, after all, have long been routinely, and often viciously, disparaged (after the reviews were in, Close felt moved to post a sketch of the cast gathered around a “Fatal Attraction”-like “critic bunny stew”). More important, reviews, bad or good, do not (nor should they) predict audience reaction (see early theater reviews of “Wicked”). As Trump has proved again and again, bad press is still press and the worse it is, the more easily it can be cast as proof that the cultural elites (i.e. critics) are out to get … somebody.

So it shouldn’t surprise anyone that, despite a 5% score on Rotten Tomatoes, “All’s Fair” was Hulu’s most successful scripted series premiere in three years.

Reading the zeitgeist, the creators of “All’s Fair” were clearly not looking for raves or awards, just viewers. In this American moment, bad is good and shrewd operators know that if you throw in enough high-profile ingredients — Kardashian, Murphy, a bevy of fine actors — you needn’t take the trouble to ensure the mix will rise to the occasion.

As the president builds a ballroom while food banks are overrun, why wouldn’t TV audiences want to feast on fallen cake?

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‘No Other Choice’ Review: Park Chan-wook’s Timely, Dark, Hilarious Comedic Satire That Slays with Style

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‘No Other Choice’ Review: Park Chan-wook’s Timely, Dark, Hilarious Comedic Satire That Slays with Style

Most people who have seen a few director Park movies will agree that he has one of the most creative and crazy minds out there. I’m happy to join the choir. This marks the 55-year-old filmmaker’s inaugural foray into the Black comedy subgenre, although we are cognizant of his cheekiness. 

Director Park’s examination of the economic class structures in South Korea, as evidenced by Man-soo’s dismissal, is as bleak as it is in any other urbanized capitalist nation. It is, after all, based on an American novel, but it exploits this premise to build a powerful Black comedy. With No Other Choice‘s straightforward plot, he deconstructs the conventions of masculinity under a capitalistic umbrella through a kooky but always funny atmosphere. One equally funny and depressing recurring gag is post-firing affirmations that many of the unemployed former breadwinners use as an excuse to continue their self-pity wallowing. Man-soo’s dubious scheme reflects himself in his fellow compatriots, who share the same ill fate. They all neglect their loving families, becoming real-time losers to the significant impact of the capitalist culture on the common man. As the plot develops, Park explores the twisted but captivating development of this man regaining his sense of self and spine… You know, through murder. 

As this social satire unfolds in dark, humorous ways, No Other Choice is a rare example of style and substance working together. Director Park throws every stylistic option he can at the wall, and almost everything sticks. Mainly because his imaginative lens – crossfades, dissolves, and memorable feats – is both visually captivating and enriching to Man-soo’s mission. The film encroaches on noir-thriller sensibilities, especially with its modern setting. Man-soo’s choices become more engrossing and inventive, proving timely even in its most familiar beats while personalizing every supporting character. 

Director Park and his reunion with director of photography Kim Woo-hyung from The Little Drummer Girl execute a distinctive vision that flawlessly captures the screwball comedy archetype with its own rhythmic precision and stunning visuals, particularly in contrast to the picturesque autumnal backdrop. Compared to Decision to Leave, it’s more maximalist, but it still makes you think, “Wow, this is how movies should look.” Nevertheless, the meticulous framework and blocking in the numerous chaotic sequences impart a unique dark-comedic tone that evokes a classic comedy from the height of silent era cinema, albeit in stunning Technicolor. 

In an exceptional leading performance, Lee Byung-hun channels his inner Chaplin.

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Will Tony Dokoupil be the next anchor of ‘CBS Evening News’?

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Will Tony Dokoupil be the next anchor of ‘CBS Evening News’?

Tony Dokoupil is expected to move from mornings to evenings at CBS News.

Dokoupil, currently the co-host of “CBS Mornings,” has signed a new deal to take over as anchor of “CBS Evening News,” according to several people briefed on the matter who were not authorized to comment publicly. One person said an announcement is expected as soon as this week.

A representative for CBS News declined comment. Dokoupil, 44, did not respond to a request for comment.

The news division’s signature program is expected to return to a solo anchor format after pairing John Dickerson and Maurice DuBois over the last year. Both Dickerson and DuBois are departing CBS News later this month.

The appointment of Dokoupil would not point to a major change in direction at the program. Dokoupil, who has been with CBS News since 2016 after three years at NBC, became co-host at CBS Mornings in 2019.

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Bari Weiss, the recently appointed editor in chief at CBS News, reportedly expressed a desire to bring in an outside name, including Bret Baier, the Washington-based anchor at conservative-leaning Fox News. CNN’s Anderson Cooper was also discussed internally, but he chose to sign a new deal with his network.

The Free Press, the digital news site co-founded by Weiss and acquired by Paramount, vigorously defended Dokoupil last year when he was at the center of controversy over an aggressive on-air interview he conducted with author Ta-Nehisi Coates last year.

Dokoupil was admonished in an editorial meeting for how he questioned Coates about his new book, “The Message,” which examines the Israel-Gaza conflict. CBS News leadership said on the call that the interview did not meet the company’s editorial standards after receiving a number of complaints from staffers.

A recording of the meeting was posted on the Free Press site.

“It is journalists like Tony Dokoupil who are an endangered species in legacy news organizations, which are wilting to the pressures of this new elite consensus,” the editors of the Free Press wrote on the matter.

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Shari Redstone, the former majority shareholder in CBS News parent Paramount, also publicly expressed her support for Dokoupil at the time. She said CBS News executives made “a bad mistake” in their handling of the matter. Both executives who led the editorial call, Wendy McMahon and Adrienne Roark, are no longer with the network.

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Movie Reviews

Book Review: The “Night” Movies of Film Critic A.S. Hamrah – The Arts Fuse

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Book Review: The “Night” Movies of Film Critic A.S. Hamrah – The Arts Fuse

By Peter Keough

Once again, critic A.S. Hamrah sheds perceptive light on our cinematic malaise.

The Algorithm of the Night: Film Criticism 2019-2025 by A.S. Hamrah. n + 1. 554 pages. $23

If film criticism – and film itself – survive the ongoing cultural, political, economic, and technological onslaughts they face, it will be due in part to writers like A. S. Hamrah. His latest collection (there are two, in fact; I have not yet read Last Week in End Times Cinema, but I am sure that it will also be the perfect holiday gift for the dystopic cinephile on your list) picks up where his previous book The Earth Dies Streaming left off, unleashing his savage indignation on today’s fatuous, lazy critical conversations and the vapid studio fodder that sustains it.

Not that it is all negativity. This inexhaustibly illuminating and entertaining assortment of reviews, essays, mordant Oscar roundups, and freewheeling, sui generis bagatelles first seen in such publications as n+1 (for which he is the film critic), The Baffler, the New York Review of Books, and the Criterion Collection is filled with numerous laudatory appreciations of films old and new — all of which you should watch or watch again. I was impressed with his eloquent, insightful praise for Debra Granik’s Leave No Trace (2018), his shrewd analysis of Abbas Kiarostami’s masterpiece A Taste of Cherry (1997) and its mixed critical reaction, and his reassessment of John Sayles’s neglected epic of class warfare Matewan (1987), among many others.

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Also not to be missed are Hamrah’s absurdist ventures into his personal life, many in theaters (or not in theaters, as when Covid shut them down in 2020), such as the time he observed a menacing attendee at a screening of 2010’s Joker. “It would be best to see [Joker] in a theater with a potential psychopath for that added thrill of maybe not surviving it,” he concludes. One strikingly admirable characteristic of Hamrah’s criticism is that he consciously avoids writing anything that could be manipulated by a studio into a banal blurb. You will find no “White knuckle thrill ride” or “Your heart will melt” or “A monumental cinematic experience” here.

The book does boast a bounty of blurbable bits, but they are not the kind that any publicist will put in an ad. These are laugh-out-loud takedowns of bad movies, vain filmmakers, and vapid performers. Some of my favorites among these beautiful barbs include his description of The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) as “[S]horter than Wakanda Forever by a whopping 47 minutes but still too long,” his dismissal of Jojo Rabbit (2019) as “combining Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson in the worst, cop-out ways,” and his exasperated take on Edward Berger’s 2022 remake of All Quiet on the Western Front (“What happened to the German cinema?”).

Film critic A. S. Hamrah — another inexhaustibly illuminating and entertaining assortment of writings on film. Photo: n+1 benefit.

He also displays the rare critical ability to reassess  a director and give him his due. In his review of Berger’s 2024 Conclave, he admits that “Berger directs [it] like he is a totally different filmmaker than the one who made the 2022 version All Quiet on the Western Front. Unlike that film, this one is highly burnished and tightly wound.” (Watch out – close to blurb material there!)

The book ends with an apotheosis of the listicle called “Movie Stars in Bathtubs: 48 Movies and Two Incidents” in which Hamrah summarizes nine decades of cinema. It ranges from Louis Feuillade’s 1916 silent crime serial Les Vampires (“‘It is in Les Vampires that one must look for the great reality of our century’ wrote the surrealists Aragon and Breton”) to Brian De Palma’s 2002 neo-noir Femme Fatale (“There is a picture book called Movie Stars in Bathtubs, but there aren’t enough movie stars in bathtubs. De Palma’s Femme Fatale, which stars Rebecca Romijn, does much to correct that.”)

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Around the volume’s midpoint, Hamrah includes one of the two “incidents” of the title. In “1951: The first issue of Cahiers du Cinema” he celebrates the astonishing cadre of cinephiles, many of whom are depicted in Richard Linklater’s recent film Nouvelle Vague, who put out the publication that reinvented an art form. “Unlike critics today,” Hamrah points out, “these writers did not complain that they were powerless. They defended the movies they loved and excoriated the ones they hated. For them film criticism was a confrontation, its goal to change how films were viewed and how they were made.” It’s a tradition that Hamrah, who combines the personal point of view and cultural literacy of James Agee with the historical, contextualizing vision of J. Hoberman, triumphantly embraces.


Peter Keough writes about film and other topics and has contributed to numerous publications. He had been the film editor of the Boston Phoenix from 1989 to its demise in 2013 and has edited three books on film, including Kathryn Bigelow: Interviews (University Press of Mississippi, 2013) and For Kids of All Ages: The National Society of Film Critics on Children’s Movies (Rowman & Littlefield, 2019).

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