I can't figure out who this film was meant for. It can't be a training film. You learn that the F-104 needs frequent refueling and that it can make mincemeat out of large, white rectangles, but that's as much technical information as you'll get. It isn't a gripping family drama, though there are a lot of scenes where Bob Dornan's father, Congressman Liberace, rings up his son and his commander to diss their fighter jets (it could have used a sort of, kind of Jazz Singer moment where the Congressman hears his son is flying jets instead of bombers, rips his clothes, and proclaims he has no son. That would have been something anyway). As for the romance...well, lets just say that the midair refueling scenes deliver more raw eroticism than any of these drunk, speed freaked pilots who troll the bars to pick up vapid Iowa chicks for nights of wild snuggling. My current theory is that this movie was some kind of commercial for the F-104 and the Tactical Air Command, though I'm still not sure who they're trying to sell it to (Congressmen? Pilots? The General Public?). With ads like this one, I'm surprised the Air Force doesn't have to hold bake sales to buy its bombers.