The Secret Garden

Synopsis: A young British girl born and raised in India loses her neglectful parents in an earthquake. She is returned to England to live at her uncle's estate. Her uncle is very distant due to the loss of his wife ten years before. Neglected once again, she begins exploring the estate and discovers a garden that has been locked and neglected. Aided by one of the servants' brothers, she begins restoring the garden, and eventually discovers some other secrets of the manor.
Genre: Family
Director(s): Agnieszka Holland
Production: WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES
  Nominated for 1 BAFTA Film Award. Another 3 wins & 5 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.3
Rotten Tomatoes:
85%
G
Year:
1993
101 min
5,379 Views


My name is Mary Lennox.

I was born in India.

It was hot... and strange...

... and lonely in India.

I didn't like it.

Nobody but my servant...

... my ayah, looked after me.

My parents didn't want me.

My mother cared only to go to parties...

... and my father was busy

with his military duties.

I was never allowed to go to the parties.

I watched them

from my mother's bedroom window.

I was angry, but I never cried.

I didn't know how to cry.

- I left my fan. You didn't have to come.

- I wanted to.

My parents always thought

about themselves.

They never thought about me.

If only I could've known...

... that in a few moments

I would lose them forever.

Earthquake!

The families of the Indian earthquake

orphans should please go to Dock 2.

We're here, Mary! Can you believe it?

She's so sour. I heard that she never cried

when her parents died.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary..."

Numbers 38 and 39...

... George and Amy Brent.

Numbers 40 and 41...

...Timothy and Thomas Burke.

- Here we are!

- Here we are!

Oh, my boys, my boys.

Number 43, Mary Lennox.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary

"How does your garden grow?

"With silver bells

"And cockleshells

"And pretty maids all in a row."

Number 43...

... Mary Lennox.

Please, just step aside.

Number 44...

... Adam Snow.

Mary Lennox?

Is that Mary Lennox?

Number 43.

Yes, Mary Lennox.

I've come to claim her.

I'm Mrs. Medlock,

housekeeper of Misslethwaite Manor...

...for the Lord Archibald Craven...

...her uncle and guardian.

What a queer, unresponsive little thing.

And, my word, a plain piece of quince.

Her mother was a beauty.

She certainly didn't hand much of it down.

She might improve as she gets older.

Children change.

She'll have to change quite a bit.

There's not much to improve her

at Misslethwaite Manor.

Come along.

It's a pity for you that

you haven't any other place to go.

Your uncle won't trouble himself

about you.

That's for sure.

He never troubles himself about anyone.

As if having a crooked back...

...wasn't cross enough for a man to bear,

but she had to up and die on him.

Your aunt is dead.

Didn't your mother tell you?

Strange.

Not telling you that

her own twin sister was dead.

My mother didn't have the time

to tell me stories.

Oh, at last.

There's Misslethwaite.

You'll go straight to bed for a few hours.

You probably haven't gotten much rest.

There's your breakfast.

I'm still in my nightgown.

You can change after you eat.

There are new clothes in the wardrobe.

Who'll dress me?

You can't dress yourself?

Of course not. My ayah dressed me.

Nonsense.

As old as you are?

What do they do with children in India?

Carry you around in a basket?

How dare you talk to me

with such disrespect!

Nobody's going to carry you

around Misslethwaite Manor.

We've far too much work already.

So you'll have to look after yourself.

There are 100 rooms here.

This one and no other is yours.

Don't expect to see your uncle

because it's certain you won't.

You are not to touch anything,

or to go wandering and poking about.

The house seemed dead...

... like a spell had been cast upon it.

It looked just like my mother's room.

This must have been my aunt's.

The dressing tables were the same.

They even had twin ivory elephants.

Mother.

What are you doing? What did I tell you?

I heard someone crying.

Dogs.

No, someone! A person crying.

You heard nothing of the sort.

Now...

...you stay where you are told,

or I'll come and box your ears.

Good afternoon.

I brought you something to eat.

You haven't touched your porridge.

Didn't you want it?

Are you my servant?

I'm Mrs. Medlock's servant.

She's Lord Craven's.

But I'll be doing the housemaid's work

up here and waiting on you a bit.

Waiting on me makes you my servant then.

You are strange.

Hey, I know that.

Mrs. Medlock gave me the place

out of kindness to me mother.

She said she could never have done it

if there was a grand missus here.

I'd never be let out of the kitchens...

...and certainly not upstairs.

Stop it!

What're you doing?

I thought all girls liked to be tickled.

What would you like to wear?

Black...

...black or black?

Are you blind?

They're all black.

And I won't be laughed at, servant.

My name's Martha.

I won't tickle you. I promise.

What do they wear in India?

When I heard you were coming,

I thought you'd be a native.

What?

You thought I was a what? You...

You...

You daughter of a pig!

You needn't be like that.

I've nothing against natives.

My mother says all of us are family.

I've never seen a native.

I was pleased to think I was.

You don't know anything about anything!

None of you know nothing!

Please.

Don't be vexed.

I don't know anything about anything...

...like you said.

I'm sorry, miss.

I'm too common and I talk too much.

I beg your pardon, miss.

I don't know when exactly

your uncle will call for you.

My uncle?

Mrs. Medlock said

he wouldn't want to see me.

But he does.

Your uncle's decided not to see you today.

When will I see him?

Tomorrow?

No. He'll be gone tomorrow.

After the mistress died ten years ago...

... Lord Craven wouldn't see people.

There's nobody to ease his sorrow.

He spends most of his time

away from home now.

Poor man.

They say he's cursed.

Better put your sweater on.

It's cold outside.

But I've got no one to play with.

No one to play with?

Let me out of here.

Dickon, my brother...

...goes up on the moor

by himself for hours.

That's how he made friends

with all his animals.

Who?

Dickon...

...me younger brother.

Pull it down!

You have no idea

how curious he is about you.

What do you think you're doing?

There you are!

I wondered where you'd gone.

What do you mean?

You knew perfectly well where I was.

Your scarf, miss.

There.

Thou is ready to go out now.

I can't see.

To get to the gardens...

...you must go through there...

...then around the outside of the house.

Run along now. Have fun.

What's beyond there?

Another garden?

Where's the door?

You there!

- Where's the door to that other garden?

- What?

The one with all the ivy.

I didn't see a door.

There isn't one.

There has to be a door somewhere.

No one's been inside that place

for ten years.

Why?

Why?

Because when she died, the master

gave orders to shut it up forever.

Who died?

My aunt died.

It was her garden, wasn't it?

Look at me.

Answer me, you!

It's revolting how these people

behave toward me.

Of course...

...orders couldn't keep him out.

He's the only one goes in there nowadays.

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Caroline Thompson

Caroline Thompson (born April 23, 1956) is an American novelist, screenwriter, film director, and producer. She wrote the screenplays for Tim Burton's films Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Corpse Bride. She co-wrote the story for Edward Scissorhands and recently co-adapted a new stage version of the film with director and choreographer Matthew Bourne. Thompson also adapted the screenplay for the film version of Wicked Lovely, a bestselling fantasy series, in 2011, but the production was put into turnaround. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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