Lockheed's F-104 Starfighter, backbone of the USAF's Tactical Fighter Command during the mid-60s. Known as the 'Missile With A Man In It', this speedy jet had a few drawbacks to go with its' plusses. Firstly, it had a truly appalling safety record, which apologists to this day try vainly to claim was undeserved. Secondly, the plane's massive turbojet engine, pencil fuselage, ponderous loaded weight and ultra-thin wings (incapable of containing gas tanks) meant that the 104 tended to run out of fuel about three minutes after take-off. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the Starfighter proved to be completely unsuited to the combat situations it was required to fight in during the 60s. Though able to carry ground attack weapons of considerable punch, there was no getting around the fact that the F-104 was not suited to the sort of warfare called for in Vietnam. Hence, this swift but dangerous false economy with wings was soon eclipsed by more versatile types employed in the Indo-China conflict.
It would seem that Lockheed and TAC were aware of the plane's numerous shortcomings, and thus we have an explanation of why 'The Starfighters' was made. Nothing else other than a PR campaign to paint the plane as not the colossal waste of time and money it proved to be explains the existence of a film like this. As so many other reviewers have said, there is nothing to recommend this film at all on any level. It has no story to speak of, the acting is slightly below third-rate community theatre standard, half of the runtime is extremely dull stock footage, and the whole thing just radiates pointlessness and redundancy from every frame.
The plot, such as it is, follows the 'adventures' of three TAC pilots assigned to George AFB to learn the ropes of flying Lockheed's new air superiority fighter. Our 'hero', Lt. John Witkowski Jr, is under pressure from his Congressman father to quit TAC. Witkowski Snr, who flew B-17s over Germany in WW2 and somehow managed to not only father at least one child but also join the Air Force and the Federal government without anyone noticing he was a ludicrously camp homosexual, wants his kid behind the wheel of a B-52 or B-58. But Junior's only interested in flying fighters, Daddy-o...oh, and he doesn't like talking about flying when off duty. He's that hard. He's a ginger Charlie Sheen. That's how John Witkowski Jr rolls, and you'd better learn that fast! The boys practise in-flight refuelling (a very tricky feat which this film tries to pretend is easy to do) and knock seven bells out of various decoy targets with a variety of weapons - inbetween extended and numerous bouts of heavy drinking, amphetamine use and extremely strange telephone pranks. Johnny's life becomes a bit more complicated when he's assigned a girlfriend (presumably from the base's general woman pool) and then involved in a heart-stopping crisis where his plane's undercarriage malfunctions very slightly. Then there's some more refuelling practise, and a snafu during a training flight that involves a never-seen storm causing a never-seen F-104 crash. After that, the trio and their squadron chums put on "poopy suits" and muck about in a swimming pool for a while, before packing up and leaving for Europe. The end.
I'm a warplane buff, big time, but even I was sent to sleep by the endless dull stock footage. Nothing even remotely exciting happens at any point; even the makers seemed to know this, which is why the moments that could by a massive leap of faith be portrayed as 'action sequences' are overlaid with 40s big band music or tootling cod jazz.
Let us turn our attention to the 'actors' and 'plot'. Playing our hero, John W Witkowski, is Robert Dornan, who was a (very poor) fighter pilot in real life and later became a (grotesquely bigoted) US Congressman -just like his screen Dad! Despite having a mildly decent TV career, Dornan is not what anyone would call an actor, and he shows this very clearly here; but in all fairness no-one involved with the movie was in danger of an Oscar nod. Dornan's two wingmates comprise a smug misogynist with leathery skin, and a mentally subnormal Goober clone. It's hard to tell which of them is less hateful. Our heroes are trained by Maj. "Madge" Stevens - a man so modest and so bad at his job he admits at one point that a rookie who's only been in the F-104 for an hour can outfly him in it - and commanded by Colonel Hunt, a lumpy foul-tempered beef roast in a uniform who gets worryingly excited by delivering fascist tirades at Chamber of Commerce meetings. Under his command, our flying fools inhale scotch by the barrel, gulp handfuls of speed and swap big heaping buckets of clunky, lifeless dialogue. An entire three-minute scene is devoted to Witkowski's lady friend explaining how she used to work as a corn de-tassler in Iowa. And you thought Quarantine was intense!
Yes, this is a horrible, horrible movie, whose only purpose for existence seems to have been as a puff piece to be shown at air bases and to NATO countries who'd bought this speedy white elephant - and wanted to know why it kept crashing or running out of gas before it'd finished taxiing onto the runway. One of the best MST3K episodes, and easily one of the worst movies ever made in the English language. Boring, pointless, sexist, badly acted, psycho-right-wing propaganda drivel. GREAT fun to watch with some pals and your favourite snacks.
It would seem that Lockheed and TAC were aware of the plane's numerous shortcomings, and thus we have an explanation of why 'The Starfighters' was made. Nothing else other than a PR campaign to paint the plane as not the colossal waste of time and money it proved to be explains the existence of a film like this. As so many other reviewers have said, there is nothing to recommend this film at all on any level. It has no story to speak of, the acting is slightly below third-rate community theatre standard, half of the runtime is extremely dull stock footage, and the whole thing just radiates pointlessness and redundancy from every frame.
The plot, such as it is, follows the 'adventures' of three TAC pilots assigned to George AFB to learn the ropes of flying Lockheed's new air superiority fighter. Our 'hero', Lt. John Witkowski Jr, is under pressure from his Congressman father to quit TAC. Witkowski Snr, who flew B-17s over Germany in WW2 and somehow managed to not only father at least one child but also join the Air Force and the Federal government without anyone noticing he was a ludicrously camp homosexual, wants his kid behind the wheel of a B-52 or B-58. But Junior's only interested in flying fighters, Daddy-o...oh, and he doesn't like talking about flying when off duty. He's that hard. He's a ginger Charlie Sheen. That's how John Witkowski Jr rolls, and you'd better learn that fast! The boys practise in-flight refuelling (a very tricky feat which this film tries to pretend is easy to do) and knock seven bells out of various decoy targets with a variety of weapons - inbetween extended and numerous bouts of heavy drinking, amphetamine use and extremely strange telephone pranks. Johnny's life becomes a bit more complicated when he's assigned a girlfriend (presumably from the base's general woman pool) and then involved in a heart-stopping crisis where his plane's undercarriage malfunctions very slightly. Then there's some more refuelling practise, and a snafu during a training flight that involves a never-seen storm causing a never-seen F-104 crash. After that, the trio and their squadron chums put on "poopy suits" and muck about in a swimming pool for a while, before packing up and leaving for Europe. The end.
I'm a warplane buff, big time, but even I was sent to sleep by the endless dull stock footage. Nothing even remotely exciting happens at any point; even the makers seemed to know this, which is why the moments that could by a massive leap of faith be portrayed as 'action sequences' are overlaid with 40s big band music or tootling cod jazz.
Let us turn our attention to the 'actors' and 'plot'. Playing our hero, John W Witkowski, is Robert Dornan, who was a (very poor) fighter pilot in real life and later became a (grotesquely bigoted) US Congressman -just like his screen Dad! Despite having a mildly decent TV career, Dornan is not what anyone would call an actor, and he shows this very clearly here; but in all fairness no-one involved with the movie was in danger of an Oscar nod. Dornan's two wingmates comprise a smug misogynist with leathery skin, and a mentally subnormal Goober clone. It's hard to tell which of them is less hateful. Our heroes are trained by Maj. "Madge" Stevens - a man so modest and so bad at his job he admits at one point that a rookie who's only been in the F-104 for an hour can outfly him in it - and commanded by Colonel Hunt, a lumpy foul-tempered beef roast in a uniform who gets worryingly excited by delivering fascist tirades at Chamber of Commerce meetings. Under his command, our flying fools inhale scotch by the barrel, gulp handfuls of speed and swap big heaping buckets of clunky, lifeless dialogue. An entire three-minute scene is devoted to Witkowski's lady friend explaining how she used to work as a corn de-tassler in Iowa. And you thought Quarantine was intense!
Yes, this is a horrible, horrible movie, whose only purpose for existence seems to have been as a puff piece to be shown at air bases and to NATO countries who'd bought this speedy white elephant - and wanted to know why it kept crashing or running out of gas before it'd finished taxiing onto the runway. One of the best MST3K episodes, and easily one of the worst movies ever made in the English language. Boring, pointless, sexist, badly acted, psycho-right-wing propaganda drivel. GREAT fun to watch with some pals and your favourite snacks.