A talented cast whiffs the tonal ball badly with this comedy misfire that takes a bizarrely off-kilter view of female empowerment. Although ostensibly set in modern times, the film plays like a relic from an era when "women's lib" was a new idea confined to college campuses and best-seller lists, when the open-busted, zero-G hemline of the stewardess or the rigidly starched white uniform of the nurse were the best professional garb to which a working girl could aspire. How strange then, that the heroine of this retro-misogynist fantasy should be played by a paragon of latter-Hollywood fem-power, Paltrow, the icon who "has it all," hitting the trifecta of ultra-successful career, rich and good-looking lovers, and actual talent and taste. Which is probably why, as a trailer-park dreamer, Platrow is surprisingly convincing and nimble-witted, even if at times the actress cannot hide her disdain for the weak material. Faring even better is Myers, the only real reason to see the film, in a supporting role that he cheekily tackles with self-referential zeal, winking at the audience and his cast mates in an almost-successful attempt to persuade everyone that the whole shebang is a mirthful, knowing put-on. It's only when Myers is offscreen unfortunately, all too often — that perplexed befuddlement reasserts itself. What world is this, after all, where being a stewardess is still glamorous, where a veteran stew can become a best-selling author and role model (Bergen), when an airline's training coordinator can be witlessly but sincerely referred to as "legendary"? Characters appear then disappear. Subplots are hinted at, then dismissed without so much as a fare-thee-well. Stewardess uniforms recall not any particular era in history but rather the haute couture of those paragons of style, The Jetsons. View From The Top is a god-awful mess of faux hilarity that not even an amped-up Myers can rescue, so pitiful is its deranged script and director Barreto's otherworldly interpretation thereof. If you want to make a comedy, remember to make it resonant, containing some recognizable semblance of reality, and especially remember to bring the funny. That's procedure.