There’s something comforting about an Amir Shervan film. The Iranian-born director’s brand of chaotic, sun-drenched Los Angeles action cinema—brimming with mullets, machine guns, and misplaced machismo—has become a cult subgenre of its own. Young Rebels (1989), often overshadowed by Samurai Cop and Killing American Style, may not be Shervan’s crown jewel, but it’s a fascinating (and frequently hilarious) entry in his filmography that perfectly captures both his strengths and his many, many weaknesses.
The premise, loosely speaking, follows two men who join forces to take down a powerful drug cartel. But like all Shervan plots, the “story” quickly dissolves into a series of loosely connected scenes featuring shootouts, strip clubs, emotional outbursts, and at least one villain whose motivations are anyone’s guess. It takes a good thirty minutes before it’s even clear who the main character is supposed to be—and even then, it’s not entirely certain that the film itself knows.
Jon Greene, Tadashi Yamashita, and the incomparable Robert Z’Dar headline this fever dream, each seemingly acting in a slightly different movie. Z’Dar, whose jawline deserves its own IMDb credit, steals every moment he’s on screen—but sadly, his screen time is limited. For fans of Samurai Cop, there’s a lot of déjà vu here: familiar faces, reused locations, and a sense that Young Rebels served as a warm-up for Shervan’s later cult classic.
Visually, the film is pure 1980s madness—washed-out blues and greens, neon lights, and color grading so off it feels like you’re watching through a fish tank. The editing is equally surreal, with abrupt transitions that seem to ignore both time and space. At times, six new characters are introduced within minutes, none of whom you’ll ever see again. And yet, there’s a kind of hypnotic rhythm to the chaos.
If Young Rebels fails as coherent cinema, it succeeds as unintentional comedy gold. The acting is wooden, the dialogue nonsensical, and the fight choreography makes pro wrestling look like Raging Bull. But there’s a sincerity beneath the nonsense—a genuine attempt to make something thrilling on a shoestring budget. The soundtrack, meanwhile, is one of the film’s secret weapons: funky, 16-bit video-game-style synths that wouldn’t feel out of place in ToeJam & Earl. It’s so weirdly charming it elevates entire sequences.
It’s worth noting that Shervan’s casting choices remain as delightfully misguided as ever. Joselito Rescober, a Filipino actor and frequent Shervan collaborator, once again plays a character of another ethnicity (this time Mexican), proving that Shervan’s cultural logic was as wild as his editing.
Ultimately, Young Rebels is a mess—but it’s Shervan’s mess. It lacks the gonzo magic of Samurai Cop, but it’s still a wild, unfiltered dose of late-’80s absurdity that will scratch the itch for fans of low-budget action lunacy. If you go in expecting coherent storytelling, you’ll be disappointed. But if what you want is a hypnotic collage of mullets, neon gunfights, and heartfelt incompetence, Young Rebels delivers.
Jessie Hobson