<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: The classic tale of a troubled girl is told
once again, this time with touching grace and honesty.
</p>
<p> One way or another, everyone is an orphan. You come into the
world blind and crying; you leave the world knowing that you
can't take it, or anyone, with you. Each aspect of your identity,
good or ill, isolates you from other people. Every word you
utter is a cry rising from the human orphanage--where there
is one child per room, and all the doors are locked.
</p>
<p> Mary Lennox is an orphan and worse. She is an unloved, unwanted
child, spoiled and ignored by her late parents, a sulky burden
to the staff of Misselthwaite Manor, where her reclusive uncle,
Lord Craven, has brought her with no thoughts of loving, educating
or even taming her. He will allow her only to cultivate one
of his untended gardens. Poor makings for a heroine, which is
just why Mary made such a good one in Frances Hodgson Burnett's
1911 novel The Secret Garden. The book left a permanent notch
in many hearts (mostly girls' hearts) by teaching how creation
can flower from isolation. Those strange English virtues--patience, prim artistry, a sense of order and plenty of rain--can nurture a garden, a home, a family. It is a child's perfect
vision of motherhood.
</p>
<p> The Secret Garden was filmed by MGM in 1949 and for TV in 1987.
Two years ago, it was a hauntingly rhapsodic Broadway musical.
Now, in a different key, it is a lovely film from three people
who know the territory: executive producer Francis Ford Coppola
(who in Bram Stoker's Dracula found a decaying manor occupied
by an old count mourning his dead wife), screenwriter Caroline
Thompson (who in Edward Scissorhands put another strange, sad
creature in a castle) and director Agnieszka Holland (whose
films Europa, Europa and Olivier Olivier are about abandoned
children trying to survive in a world where innocence has been
outlawed).
</p>
<p> In their Misselthwaite, shadows and vines creep along the bedroom
walls like specters and snakes. This is the movie's dank view
of the upper class. Lord Craven (John Lynch) ever presses his
hands to his forehead, nursing an emotional migraine; his son
Colin (Heydon Prowse) is ailing from nothing but privilege.
The rich are different: they act more moody. And their attendants,
like Lord Craven's housekeeper (Maggie Smith, queen of the imperious),
are corrupted by the touch of the wealthy. Elevation keeps people
away from the earth, where the peasant class plants itself and
grows to healthy maturity. The woodland lad Dickon (Andrew Knott)
thus becomes not only a magical gardener but also a robust figure
of early manhood, stirring Mary's ardor and Colin's jealousy.
In a sense, this Secret Garden is Lady Chatterley's Lover without
the sex.
</p>
<p> At MGM, Mary Lennox was played by the tremulous waif Margaret
O'Brien. Mary on Broadway was the slim beguiler Daisy Eagan,
whom any doting adult would readily adopt. Holland's brave and
apt choice for the role is Kate Maberly, who at the start looks
as unattractive as the novel describes her. Life has used her
so roughly that she keeps people at arm's length with insolent
remarks and stares. But as Mary and her garden bloom under the
sunlight of Yorkshire camaraderie, so does Maberly. Her eyes
come alive, her carriage relaxes; inside the sad rag doll dwells
the soul of a coquette and a loving daughter.
</p>
<p> Orphans are most poignant when they don't look like Keane portraits.
Films are most moving when they find rich colors in a child's
darkest fears. This summer has seen many movies about troubled
children, but none so honest or graceful as The Secret Garden.
