Whatever does one make of Michael Lehmann, simultaneously the director of 1980s cult favourite Heathers and early 1990s disaster Hudson Hawk? I rather liked his 1996 comedy The Truth About Cats and Dogs but deride his 1998 follow-up My Giant. Somewhere in the middle of those things is 1994’s Airheads, a comedy about an aspiring rock band holding a Los Angeles radio station hostage to get their song played on the air.

The film certainly did not impress audiences at the time, and was disliked by the majority of American critics – Rolling Stone‘s Peter Travers being a notable exception. I think perhaps Travers was onto something here. For all of its weaker elements – and it certainly has them – there is a surprisingly rich sense of understanding the alternative rock scene that elevates the more successful material. That’s not just about the cameos by White Zombie and Motörhead’s Lemmy Kilmister – although they certainly help. Screenwriter Rich Wilkes infuses his script with the sorts of jokes and references that reflect a genuine investment in the musical subculture that he is affectionately mocking. One could criticise the film for not biting metalheads and rock nerds with a sharper set of teeth, but that would mean complaining about what the film does not do rather than critiquing what it actually does.

The big surprise, looking back with the benefit of hindsight, is just how talented and effective a cast there is bringing Wilkes’ screenplay to life. The film captures talent like Brendan Fraser and Adam Sandler right at the cusp of mainstream success, and both perform with an immense sense of character and brilliant comic timing. Steve Buscemi appears as the band’s third member, with a typically effective performance: he is one of a range of American actors that deliver 100 per cent no matter the film or role. The ill-fated radio station is populated by Joe Mantegna as a cynical DJ and comedy legend Michael McKean as its untrustworthy manager. Other key roles are filled by Ghostbusters‘ Ernie Hudson and Harold Ramis, David Arquette, Judd Nelson, Amy Locane, Michelle Hurst, and Nina Siemaszko.

This is not the sort of cast that is typically assembled for a mainstream satirical comedy. Its actors come from both comedy and drama backgrounds, and most of them boast at least one or two widely acclaimed dramatic works on their resumes. The film only trips up with its casting of Chris Farley as an over-enthused beat cop and Seinfeld‘s Michael Richards as the station’s over-stressed accountant. In the first case it is a mismatch of the actor and the film’s tone. In the second? Richards is a terrible, terrible actor, whose sole schtick served him profitably on television but failed him everywhere else.

There is a lot of fun to be had with Airheads. It aims sensibly for an inside crowd, and reflects its subject matter in a way that is both funny and broadly respectful. It may crib heavily from The Blues Brothers for its conclusion, but if you’re going to steal – steal from the best. This is likeable, unfairly maligned entertainment.