Hollywood is a weird place. Honestly, if you look back at the early eighties, it felt like the studios were just throwing money at anything that sounded slightly unhinged. That’s the only logical explanation for how Under the Rainbow ever got made. It’s a 1981 period comedy that tries to mash up a spy thriller, a slapstick farce, and a "behind-the-scenes" look at the making of The Wizard of Oz.
It’s chaotic.
The movie stars Chevy Chase at the peak of his "I’m too cool for this" energy and Carrie Fisher, who basically spent the entire production wondering how she ended up there. The plot? It’s a mess. We’ve got a German spy (played by Billy Barty) who is mistaken for one of the actors playing a Munchkin. Then there’s an actual spy plot involving a map of the Japanese coastline. It sounds like a fever dream because, for most of the runtime, it actually is one.
The Chaos Behind Under the Rainbow
People don't really talk about this movie as a "classic," mostly because it was a critical disaster. But the production history is arguably more interesting than the film itself. The central hook—the idea that the 124 little people hired to play Munchkins in 1938 were all drunken, hotel-destroying party animals—is actually based on a long-standing Hollywood urban legend.
Judy Garland famously perpetuated this myth during an interview with Jack Paar in the 60s. She called them "little drunks."
Is it true? Not really. Most historians, including Stephen Cox who wrote The Munchkins of Oz, have pointed out that while there were definitely some parties, the stories were wildly exaggerated by the studio to explain away any delays in production. Under the Rainbow leans into these exaggerations so hard it becomes uncomfortable. The movie portrays the actors as a singular, raucous mob. It’s a very 1981 brand of humor that, frankly, hasn't aged well at all.
Chevy Chase plays Bruce Thorpe, a talent agent who ends up protecting Carrie Fisher’s character, Annie Clark. Fisher was essentially the "handler" for the actors in the film-within-a-film. You can see the exhaustion in her eyes. In her later memoirs and interviews, she wasn't exactly shy about how difficult the shoot was. The production took over the Culver Hotel—the same place where the original 1938 cast stayed—adding a weird layer of meta-uncomfortability to the whole thing.
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Why the Critics Hated It (And Why It’s a Cult Curiosity Now)
When it dropped in July 1981, the critics were brutal. Roger Ebert gave it one star. He basically said the movie was a "terrible lapse of taste."
The problem wasn't just the slapstick. It was the tone. One minute it's trying to be a cute homage to the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the next, it’s a crude sex comedy. It couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Was it for kids who loved The Wizard of Oz? Definitely not. Was it for adults who liked Chevy Chase's dry wit? Maybe, but even then, the gags felt forced.
The movie cost about $20 million to make. That was a massive budget for a comedy in the early eighties. It barely made its money back, pulling in roughly $18 million at the box office. In the world of 1981 cinema, it was overshadowed by giants like Raiders of the Lost Ark and Superman II.
But here’s the thing.
If you watch Under the Rainbow today, it serves as this bizarre time capsule. You see a massive cast of little people—more than had been assembled for a film in decades. Actors like Billy Barty, Zelda Rubinstein (who went on to Poltergeist), and Debbie Lee Carrington were all there. Even if the material was beneath them, their screen presence is undeniable. Barty, in particular, tries his hardest to carry the physical comedy of the spy subplot.
The Problem With the "Munchkin Myth"
Let's get real for a second about the historical accuracy of the film’s premise. The "wild party" at the Culver Hotel is the backbone of this movie. In the film, they’re swinging from chandeliers and destroying furniture.
In reality? Most of the actors playing the Munchkins were professionals from the "Singer Midgets" troupe. They were hardworking performers, many of whom were supporting families back in Europe. The idea that they were all deviant party monsters was a convenient narrative for MGM publicists in the late 30s. By the time Under the Rainbow was produced, this myth had become "fact" in the eyes of Hollywood writers.
It’s a classic example of "print the legend."
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The Incredible Set Design and Technical Feats
If there is one thing you can't knock, it’s how the movie looks. The production design by Anton Furst—who would later win an Oscar for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman—is genuinely impressive. They recreated the 1930s-era backlots with incredible detail.
The costumes are lush. The cinematography captures that hazy, golden-hour glow of "Old Hollywood."
If you mute the movie, it’s a beautiful tribute to the era. Once you turn the sound on, though, you’re back to Chevy Chase making snide remarks while a Japanese photographer gets hit in the face with a door. It’s a jarring contrast. It’s almost like the movie had two different directors who weren't speaking to each other. One wanted a historical epic, and the other wanted Animal House with shorter actors.
Viewing Under the Rainbow Through a 2026 Lens
Looking at this film today feels different. We are much more sensitive to how marginalized groups are portrayed on screen. In 1981, the industry thought it was "inclusive" just to give 150 little people jobs. Today, we look at the type of jobs they were given.
Most of the characters don't have names. They are just "The Munchkins."
Despite this, the film has a strange following in the "so bad it’s good" community. It’s a movie that feels like it shouldn't exist. It represents a time when studios had huge budgets and almost zero oversight on the actual content of the scripts. It’s a relic of the "Cocaine Cinema" era—fast, expensive, and deeply weird.
Pat McCormick is in it. Adam Arkin is in it. Mako—the legendary Mako—is in it. The cast list is a fever dream in itself.
Actionable Takeaways for Film Buffs
If you’re planning on diving into this piece of cinematic history, don't go in expecting a polished comedy. Go in for the history.
- Watch for the cameos: Keep an eye out for actors who would go on to become staples in 80s and 90s character acting.
- Compare it to the memoirs: If you really want the "truth," read The Munchkins of Oz by Stephen Cox alongside your viewing. It clarifies what actually happened at the Culver Hotel versus what the movie shows.
- Study the production design: Notice how Anton Furst uses scale and color to differentiate between the "real world" and the "Oz set." It’s a masterclass in visual storytelling, even if the script fails.
- Check the credits: Look at the sheer number of performers involved. It was one of the largest casting calls for little people in history, second only to the original Wizard of Oz.
The best way to experience this movie is as a historical curiosity. It’s a glimpse into what Hollywood thought was funny before the internet, before modern sensibilities, and before the studio system became entirely focused on franchises. It’s a standalone oddity.
To understand the film, you have to understand the era. 1981 was a transition year. The gritty, director-driven cinema of the 70s was dying, and the blockbusters were taking over. Under the Rainbow tried to bridge that gap with a big budget and a wacky premise, but it fell squarely into the cracks. It remains one of the most expensive "mistakes" in Warner Bros. history, but for those who love the bizarre corners of film history, it's essential viewing.
Don't expect a masterpiece. Expect a mess. But sometimes, a high-budget mess tells you more about Hollywood than a polished hit ever could.
To truly grasp the legacy of the film, track down the "Making Of" documentaries or archival interviews with Carrie Fisher. Her candidness about the production provides the context that the film itself lacks. Understanding the friction between the cast and the production helps explain the disjointed energy on screen. Once you see the strings, the puppet show becomes a lot more fascinating.