It's TV for the era of Trump

With its worship of wealth and revenge, 'All's Fair' captures the (terrible) moment.

- MARY MCNAMARA

Disney SARAH PAULSON, above-lunging at Niecy Nash-Betts as Matthew Noszka and Kim Kardashian watch is clearly having a blast on the new Hulu drama. Below, Nash-Betts and Kardashian flank Glenn Close.

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.