VIEW FROM THE TOP REVISITED
'Tis the season
I spent the liminal space of my post-Thanksgiving Friday enjoying a few day martinis before an evening supine on my couch. The fireplace was roaring and Peter had turned in early, which meant I had free reign of the evening’s entertainment (we’d tried and failed to get tickets to Gladiator II; sadly Denzel “I’m Putting This Dress On, These Rings, and I’m Going Crazy” Washington would have to wait a little longer).
I was keen on some lighter fare and happened to be texting my friend Heather (who’d kindly hosted us the night before) when talk turned to Gwyneth (Paltrow). There are some women you could never make me hate and GP is one of them. I’ve watched Shakespeare In Love more times than I can count and I think she’s sublime in it, but this foray into aughts screwball rom-com is up there in my eyes.
If the old adage insists you strike while the iron is hot, then I love when an actor follows winning an Academy Award with something wacky as hell. Natalie Portman did No Strings Attached and Your Highness post-Black Swan. Halle Berry infamously chased her gold man with the (Razzie-winning) Catwoman. Granted View From The Top came a few years after Paltrow tearfully accepted her statue, looking like an American princess in that pink Ralph Lauren, but the sentiment remains true (her post Oscar-résumé also includes an appearance as “Dixie Normous” in Austin Powers: Goldmember). I think it’s great! Why not have FUN after achieving a career high, especially one built on make-believe and play?
As the movie poster loaded on my screen, I felt an instant serotonin spike and texted Heather back. An avowed Sliding Doors-girl, she first seemed horrified, then mollified after admitting she’d confused my choice with Shallow Hal, a bridge too far even for me.
“I dressed up as that for Halloween,” she responded, referring to (I assume) Paltrow’s air stewardess costume.
I don’t love the phrase “guilty pleasure” because the way I see it, why feel guilty enjoying something benign that you love (I’m not Catholic). View From The Top is thoroughly enjoyable, a romp about a small town girl, Donna Jensen (Paltrow) who dreams of leaving her Nevada trailer park upbringing and abusive, alcoholic parents behind. After a soul-crushing day of working retail (and being dumped by her loser bf), Donna happens upon an interview with Sally Weston (a pitch perfect Candice Bergen), a former flight attendant now hawking her memoir, My Life in the Sky. Weston is like if Martha Stewart was Palm Springs’ most fabulous resident who only decorated with antiques from Palm Beach. Her (oft-repeated) mantra is “Paris, First Class, International,” which I think are gorgeous words to live by. Inspired by the lofty heights Weston reached, Donna charges onto her second life, becoming an attendant at an unglamorous regional airline. She conquers her first flight and meets new gal pals Christine and Sherry (incredible names throughout), played by Christina Applegate and Kelly Preston (RIP) respectively.
Ever the over-achiever, Donna knows their motley trio has what it takes to get out of their flyover state hell hole and convinces the girls to apply to Royalty Airlines, Weston’s former employer. Because this is a rom-com, Rob Lowe and Mark Ruffalo dutifully appear, the latter playing Ted who sparks up a romance with Donna. Because this is a rom-com, Mike Myers also shows up (Dixie Normous reunion!) as Royalty Airlines trainer extraordinaire John Whitney, a Professor Higgins to Paltrow’s peroxide Doolittle.
Peter, hearing a riotous sing-a-long to Journey, emerged from the bedroom. We’d been out karaoking for our friend Jess’ birthday on Thanksgiving Eve Eve and it seemed to have triggered him.
“What’re you watching?” he asked, hypnotized by the kaleidoscope of neon colors and animal prints.
I patted the couch. “View From The Top. This is a Christmas classic to me* like Die Hard is to you.”
Rewatching this felt like unearthing a Y2K time capsule - and was a sad reminder that this genre of movie no longer exists. While scrolling earlier, I flipped through a slew of streaming “originals” but none seemed appealing. I get that a film in which a beautiful thin blonde saying no matter where you are, no matter where you’re from, you can be whatever you wanna be to another beautiful blonde woman isn’t exactly groundbreaking cinema, but this movie has more bite and verve than most of what currently lives on my algo. More importantly, it also has:
Incredible fash.
Sorry but these are a slay 
Montages galore.
Again - Candice Bergen
Time After TIme, a song I thought was contractually obligated to only play in Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion (another favorite), which lent the movie a doubly nostalgic factor.
It’s also incredibly quotable:
Wrong EM-pha-sis on the wrong SY-lla-ble.” (I guarantee you remember that one from the trailers).
“Did you see me on Oprah? I scared the hell out of that little weiner Dr Phil!” (flawless line read by Candy B)
“I left my job at Big Lots and thought of becoming an alcoholic.” (Me April 2020/post-election).
Honorable mention for the way Mike Myers pronounces Nevada**.
“This explains a lot about you,” Peter offered up, (I think) enjoying himself. I took this as a compliment.
As an actor, I love seeing GP play so against the grain. Everything about Donna feels antithetical to Paltrow as we know her now (single weekly American Spirit aside). Jensen is “trailer trash,” she wears primary colors and mixes prints. There is a scene in which she serves her boyfriend Easy Cheese on Ritz crackers which made me think of the time she said she’d rather “smoke crack than eat cheese from a can” (perhaps she’d gone method here, ruining this “guilty pleasure” for herself in the process). Her push up bra is gunning for Best Supporting Actress; it naturally disappears once she’s ascended to First Class International, adopting a more gamine look (the blonde now more Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy). But you can tell she’s having a blast - and her ability to do a bad French accent is the kind of nuanced character work that makes her so good.
Maybe this movie hits extra hard because somewhere in the graveyard of past dreams is a childhood fantasy of becoming an air hostess. Actually, I wanted to be a “tourist,” which was quickly course corrected by my parents who explained it wasn’t a net positive income job. To me, it seemed outlandish that Donna Jensen was well into her 20s before ever setting foot on a plane. My parents popped me in a bassinet and took my on my first flight at eight months old. I grew up in a household where we dressed up to travel. Even now, I’m a freak who finds airports quite magical, even if most (mainly American, sorry!) have devolved into a garish hellscape. But it’s a luxury I tend to take for granted. It reminded me of my first days at college - they may call it the University of Spoiled Children, yet there were lots of students with money and access who’d never flown. Why leave paradise, they trilled (ok, some had trekked to Mauna Kea). It opened my eyes to a very specific privilege - you could never see the world and still believe it was your right to rule it. But I could also see how for some, you might find yourself staring up at a large metal contraption soaring overhead, going against everything you knew about gravity, and thinking not for me. Why not stay where you are, safe and sound. Why not remain rooted where you could stand firmly, both on your feet and dogmatically in your beliefs.
The movie ends happily, if somewhat girlboss-ily, and I found the entire rewatch enormously satisfying. In its own way, it’s a companion piece to Sliding Doors, one that made my gin-and-triptophyned brain work in overtime. What if she’d never left Mark Ruffalo? What if my dad hadn’t accepted that job offer in Texas? It was a lot to consider late on a Friday night but hey, isn’t that what good art should do, make you question your existence? So the next time you’re flipping through a supposedly guilty pleasure, I say indulge yourself! It might be the exact brain massage you need.
Anyway, I can’t wait to be a guest on the Goop podcast and tell GP how much this movie means to me.
*There are at least four Christmas scenes in VFTT.
**I am very excited for Gia Coppola’s Last Showgirl because I love a Nevada Origin Story.
BOOK REPORT: THE GOODBY PEOPLE
Considering my penchant for LA-based literature, I’m not sure why it took me so long to dive into Gavin Lambert’s The Goodby People. Split into three stories, we follow the protagonist, a writer (and Lambert stand-in), as he interacts with three distinct Southern Californian characters: a beautiful-and-haunted widowed socialite, an Adonis-like bisexual grifter and a mysterious former actress and the obsessive runaway who lives in her guest house. As tends to happen in a big-but-small city, their stories intertwine, capturing a timely triptych of sixties LA.
Lambert himself was an interesting lesser-known Tinseltown figure. A British film critic, his California adventures began at a New Year’s Eve party in 1956, when he met Nicholas Ray (director of Rebel Without a Cause). They begun a quiet affair (Ray was married) and Ray invited him to consult on his latest project as a screenwriter. Lambert moved stateside, befriended Hollywood luminaries like Natalie Wood and Paul Bowles, and wrote and directed his own feature, Another Sky before decamping to Tangier.
Often compared to Eve Babitz (unfair, but easy), Lambert’s writing has more of an observant bystander quality. If Babitz is your “I’m down if you are friend,” throwing herself into hedonism with native Angeleno glee, Lambert maintains a stiff British upper lip, taking it all in with an unbiased-but-discerning eye.
I find that LA always gets the bad rep of being a hub of superficiality, but that feels too easy of a take. Why not take a cheap shot at something with a pretty facade? I’ve always been drawn to LA’s darker side, and Lambert’s book is filled with the melancholy of the unrequired, blanketed with the right amount of dry wit and glamour. I ate it up and still finding myself thinking about a week later.
(You can read more about him here).
BOP ALERT 🚨
I’m not immune to the siren’s call of All I Want For Christmas Is You, a song that never fails to inspire almost-manic holiday cheer. But as someone who favors something moodier, in a minor key, this take on a wholesome classic is, well, supreme. This is a song that connotes an elegant, adult Christmas, one with fine china, bespoke ornaments, fur-lined Manolos and tales of skiing in Gstaad. It’s feels like you’re champagne-tipsy and have just had a cheeky makeout under the mistletoe. (It also plays in a pivotal scene in a View From The Top, right before Donna spends Christmas alone in Paris). The first time I heard it was at a holiday party at the home of one of my dad’s lodge friends in Malaysia; he and his wife lived in a classic mid-century home that felt plucked right out of the set of Mad Men and even as a kid, I thought, taste!
And just like that, it’s December! I spent my family-free Thanksgiving missing my mum’s cooking, taking lots of baths and, in the absence of leftovers, making some stunning pancakes.
And now here we are on the edge of 2025. I have no gift guide (nor Spotify wrapped, as an Apple Music listener***) to share but I hope however you celebrate the holidays, that lots of gorgeous gifts (be them the kind that can be wrapped in boxes or not) await you.
And, should you feel like giving ME a gift, please drop your “guiltiest” of pleasures 2000s movies - and any book recs - below. I’m all ears!
***Challengers soundtrack would likely top mine.