It is a rare thing for a movie to actually capture the smell of damp earth. You know that specific scent? It's called petrichor. Most adaptations of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic novel feel like they were filmed in a sterile studio with plastic ivy, but the The Secret Garden film from 1993—directed by Agnieszka Holland—is different. It’s heavy. It’s moody. Honestly, it’s a bit scary at first.
Most people grew up with this version on a worn-out VHS tape. They remember the swing. They remember the robin. But they usually forget how bleak the first twenty minutes are.
Mary Lennox starts out as a deeply unlikable child. That’s the truth. In the 1993 film, played with a brilliant, stony-faced precision by Kate Maberly, Mary isn’t a "spunky" protagonist. She is a neglected, cold, and frankly bratty orphan. This is exactly why the movie works so well. It doesn't rush to make her sweet. It understands that a child who has never been loved doesn't know how to love back. When she’s sent from the heat of colonial India to the freezing, wind-swept moors of Yorkshire, the transition feels like a physical blow.
Why the 1993 Secret Garden Film is the Definitive Version
If you look at the 1949 version, it’s a bit too "Old Hollywood" polished. If you look at the 2020 remake with Colin Firth, it leans way too hard into CGI and magical realism. It misses the point. The whole magic of the The Secret Garden film is that the garden isn't actually magic. Not literally.
The magic is just nature. It’s the process of things growing when you stop ignoring them.
👉 See also: 90 Day Chantel: Why We Still Can’t Look Away From the Everett Family Drama
Holland’s direction focused on the tactile. You see the mud under the fingernails. You see the grey, suffocating dust inside Misselthwaite Manor. Roger Deakins, who is basically a god in the cinematography world, shot this movie. If you’ve seen 1917 or Blade Runner 2049, you know his style. He uses light like a weapon. In the manor, the light is dim, filtered through decades of grief. Once they get into the garden, the color palette shifts, but it stays grounded. It doesn’t turn into a neon Wonderland. It looks like a real British garden that has been left to rot for ten years.
The Gothic Horror Roots
People forget this is basically a Gothic horror story for kids. You have a massive house with 100 rooms, most of them locked. There’s a man, Lord Craven (played by John Lynch), who is so crippled by depression he can't look at his own son. And then there’s the crying. That high-pitched, wailing sound echoing through the hallways at night.
Maggie Smith is the MVP here as Mrs. Medlock. Before she was the "fun" Professor McGonagall, she was the terrifyingly strict housekeeper. She represents the "no" in this world. No running. No exploring. No waking the master.
When Mary finally finds Colin, the "hidden" boy, the movie takes a turn into psychological territory. Colin is a hypochondriac. He’s been told his whole life he’s going to die, so he’s decided to just wait for it to happen. He's a tyrant. The scenes between Maberly and Heydon Prowse (who played Colin) are some of the best child-acting moments in 90s cinema because they aren't being "cute." They are two lonely, angry kids yelling at each other until they realize they’re the only friends they have.
The Dickon Factor
Then there's Dickon. Andrew Knott played him as this sort of pagan forest spirit who just happens to wear a flat cap. He brings the animals—the fox, the crow, the pony. In the book, Dickon is almost too perfect. He’s like a Disney prince made of peat moss. But in this The Secret Garden film, he feels like a bridge between the wild moors and the stuffy house. He provides the practical knowledge. He knows that "wick" means alive.
He’s the one who teaches Mary that things aren't dead just because they look brown and dry.
The Production Design: No CGI Allowed
We have to talk about the actual garden. It was built at Pinewood Studios and also filmed on location at Fountains Abbey and Allerton Castle in Yorkshire. There is a weight to the stone walls. When the children are clearing away the dead brush, that’s real debris.
In the 2020 version, the garden changes shape and has plants that shouldn't exist in England. It feels like a video game. But in the 1993 version, the "magic" is just time-lapse photography of real lilies opening and seeds sprouting. It’s far more impactful because it feels attainable. It makes you want to go outside and dig in the dirt. It’s a sensory experience. You can almost feel the cold wind on the moors and the sudden warmth of the sun hitting the brick walls.
👉 See also: 67th Annual Grammy Awards Nominations: What Most People Get Wrong
The Score by Zbigniew Preisner
Music can make or break a period piece. Preisner, a Polish composer, avoided the typical "saccharine" strings you hear in family movies. He used haunting woodwinds and a boy soprano. The main theme is melancholy. It captures the sense of loss—specifically the loss of Colin's mother—that hangs over the entire estate.
When the garden finally "blooms" in the climax of the film, the music doesn't just become happy. It becomes triumphant and slightly overwhelming. It mirrors the emotional release of Lord Craven finally coming home and seeing his son walk.
Common Misconceptions About the Story
A lot of people think The Secret Garden is a girl’s story. It’s not. It’s a story about trauma and the way environments shape us.
- Misconception 1: The garden is magical.
Actually, the book and the 1993 film emphasize that it’s just neglected. The "magic" is a metaphor for the human spirit's ability to heal when given attention and "bits of earth." - Misconception 2: Lord Craven is a villain.
He’s really just a man suffering from what we’d now call complicated grief and clinical depression. The movie handles his return with a lot of grace, showing his internal struggle rather than making him a caricature of a mean father. - Misconception 3: It's a romance.
There are some weird "shipping" vibes people try to project onto Mary and Dickon or Mary and Colin later in life, but the film keeps it strictly about the necessity of companionship. These kids are saving each other's lives.
Why the Ending Still Hits
The final scene isn't about the garden. It's about a father and a son. When Lord Craven enters the garden and sees Colin running—not just walking, but sprinting—it’s a gut punch.
"I thought you were a hunchback," Mary says earlier in the film.
"I'm not a hunchback," Colin replies.
"You have such a temper, I'm surprised your back isn't crooked," she snaps.
This bluntness is what makes the emotional payoff work. They didn't "sweet-talk" their way to health. They fought for it.
💡 You might also like: Drunk Shakespeare New York Tickets: How to Actually Score a Seat at the Drunkest Show in Town
Modern Relevancy
In 2026, we are more disconnected from nature than ever. We spend our lives staring at screens that emit blue light instead of sunlight. This is why the The Secret Garden film feels even more important now than it did thirty years ago. It’s a reminder that we need the "earth" to stay sane. We need to see things grow.
If you’re looking to revisit this story, skip the modern remakes. They try too hard to be "epic." Go back to the 1993 version. It’s smaller, tighter, and much more honest about how difficult it is to stop being miserable.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans of the Film
If you want to experience the "vibe" of the film in real life, here is how you actually do it:
- Visit the real locations: If you're ever in the UK, go to Fountains Abbey in North Yorkshire. It’s the location for many of the exterior shots. The scale of the ruins is mind-blowing.
- Read the 1911 original text: Compare how the movie changed the ending. In the book, the focus shifts almost entirely to Colin at the end, whereas the movie keeps Mary at the center of the emotional arc.
- Gardening for "Wick": You don't need a manor. Even a window box with some mint or basil can provide that same psychological "hit" of seeing something thrive because of your intervention.
- Look for the "Uncut" Details: Watch the film again and pay attention to the costumes. They change from stiff, dark wools to lighter, breathable fabrics as the kids' personalities open up. It’s a subtle bit of storytelling you might have missed as a kid.
The 1993 adaptation remains a masterpiece because it respects children. It doesn't talk down to them. It knows they are capable of deep sorrow and incredible resilience. It’s a film about the fact that even the most "dead" things are usually just waiting for a little bit of water and someone to notice them.
Next Steps for Your Watchlist
If you loved the atmosphere of this film, your next move should be watching A Little Princess (1995), directed by Alfonso Cuarón. It shares the same "prestige children's cinema" DNA, focusing on a strong-willed girl navigating a cold, institutional world with the power of her imagination. It's the perfect companion piece.