So, you’re a fan of Judy Garland? You watched her suffer in Judy (2019) and you raced through her career in Me and My Shadows (2001). Now tell me… have you seen Rainbow? NBC aired the television special on November 6, 1978. Andrea McArdle would play Garland from ages 10 to 17 in the tropey, irony free biopic. Mild spoilers ahead.

McArdle had opened the year before in Annie on Broadway. The show had taught her one setting: LOUD. She belts her way through 14 songs here while standing stock still. No attempt was made to capture Garland’s sound or style. On the flip side she recites her dialogue off the cuff as though she’s slightly embarrassed about it. A shame because the script gives her some pulpy trash that a campier actress could have sunk her teeth into. This is the type of script where Frances Gumm sings a song called “That’s Judy,” decides to change her name to Judy, then announces “Hello world! Meet Judy Garland!”

The first half is Gypsy-lite. Her brassy mother (a fun Piper Laurie) drags her and her sisters on Vaudeville tours. Her sad father (an understated Don Murray) gives her affection but he’s got a case of the gays so mama keeps them apart. After the requisite audition montage she gets a contract at MGM. Everything’s peachy with Mickey Rooney rattling off one liners and a wise gay music director (a wry Nicholas Pryor) giving her pep talks. Then Louis B. Mayer comes in.

The studio co-founder was a leering monster in the recent Judy. He was saddled with the films bluntest dialogue. Martin Balsam’s Mayer is more affably evil. He invites Judy to lunch, makes some small talk, and then begins to gently criticize her. The criticism grows harsher and the temperature begins to drop yet he never raises his voice. Finally, he tells her she needs to lose weight. It’s the film’s best scene.

Up till now the story had been fairly cleaned up. I worried they would skip MGM’s habit of forcing drugs on her entirely. But sure enough, 74 minutes in, there’s a bottle of pills sitting on her dresser. Now Judy’s rattling off lines like “I gave up my childhood and I got nothing back” and “Baby Gumm is dead! I’m Judy Garland!” The pulpy dialogue suggests a campy treat. Valley of the Dolls for tots. But the novelty wears off fast. Once I realized, 20 minutes in, that McArdle had shown us the extent of her range there was no where to go. The rest of the film is a slog, ending on the inevitable rendition of “Over the Rainbow.” With each of McArdle’s songs sounding alike the number I most remember is a lullaby sung by her father: I’ll Get By (As Long As I Have You.)

If you’re a Garland or Mcardle completionist check it out. But keep your expectations low.