Nothing is sacred. I suppose that’s why we have so many remakes, reboots, and re-releases these days. But having not seen the original version of The Secret Garden, and with no love for the source material or experience with anything written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, I went into this film completely blind. That’s probably the best option available to those wanting to give this latest Marc Munden directed movie a viewing. Disconnecting yourself from any form of manipulation the film may have on your beloved childhood memories and dreams, it’s the only way to get through most adaptations of classic novels these days.
The Secret Garden is far better than it has any right to be. It’s not good, nowhere close, but considering how I was expecting a cataclysmic mess, it’s hard to note it down as such. Munden’s direction adds nothing new or interesting, a director yet to find his voice or a unique angle to feed to his recurring audiences. Whilst his handling of flashbacks and whimsical fantasy is rather solid, an oddly large amount of montage shots that never amount to anything appear far too frequently. There doesn’t seem to be any pacing whatsoever. It’s all over the place, bouncing between annoying and charming. The story is told with a feeling of vile, despicable hatred, there’s no real care for the potential magic The Secret Garden has to offer.
For a film titled The Secret Garden, there’s very little of it. It keeps itself secret from not just the pessimism of its cast, but its audience too. What brief glimpses we see of this wonderland are wholly underwhelming, the only clear contrast is colour and lighting, rather than actions and response from its leading cast. Munden never creates a fantastical aura around his more endearing moments, and that may be the biggest problem of all. Without the necessary build-up, pay-off, or charm surrounding the unveiling of the garden, all is lost. The drab, Victorian settings of the manor in which our leading character, Mary Lennox, accommodates, is far more memorable than moments that feature the hidden capriciousness of the garden.
A charming, uneventful film that makes, what I assume, is a complete fumbling of the actual source material. I can’t say for sure, but a quick glimpse over the magic contained in Burnett’s original piece feels very far away from the faux misery on display in The Secret Garden. Firth and Walters are naturally charming, but do little with a completely harmless script. Convincingly performed, but without the backbone to bring any of the delight, whimsy or charm that this cast could have offered audiences, The Secret Garden is a forgettable affair, one that may provide ample distraction on a lazy day.
