I didn't watch the Oprah interview with Harry and Meghan for a number of reasons. While I admit to an enduring affection for the Queen (mostly because of her W.W.II actions, and the fact that she knows how to be dignified and dutiful) and for Philip (mostly because his occasional un-P.C. slips have always amused me) my feelings for the rest of the royals- from prosy old Charles on down- range from polite indifference to mild contempt. Also, I have a very marked distaste for people of any stripe airing their family's dirty linen in public. This no doubt stems from my own childhood; growing up as one of nine non-angelic children, there was certainly conflict on occasion but we had it drilled into us that you never, ever cause a scene in public, fighting with your siblings. You simply did not embarrass yourself and your family like that. That policy applies to this day... not so much with conflict, because we all get along remarkably well, but any family concerns or problems are discussed & handled within the family, not broadcast on social media or anywhere else. Finally, I've never had much time for those who feel the need to tell everyone what a victim they are. Society today seems to be awash with people eager to loudly and proudly wallow in their purported victimhood, though I can't help but notice that the ones who make the most noise generally have the least to complain about. I'm not saying that rich people can't have crap lives because obviously a lot of them do, but let's not pretend that "someone said something rude to me" is a problem anywhere near the level of "I lost my job because of the pandemic and now I'm going to lose my house." So the idea of watching two multimillionaires sit on the grounds of their $14.7 million estate and whinge to a billionaire about how tough their lives are held little appeal for me. I watched an episode of The Expanse instead. But of course, I could not escape the social media blow up after the interview so ended up reading all sorts of takes on it, and seeing a couple of clips. I'm not going to comment on who I think did what to whom because I have no clue and frankly, I don't much care. As far as I can see, they're all weirdos of one sort or another... how could you live that kind of life and not be one? I will say though, that Harry & Meghan portraying themselves as happy-go-lucky innocents tippy-toeing around Kensington Palace spreading sweetness and light to all, who were then suddenly set upon by a hostile royal family and their minions, is a bit much. They would have done better to acknowledge what is no doubt closer to the truth: that there were faults, mistakes, and wrong doing on all sides. People would find that easier to believe. Better yet, they could have opted to say nothing at all about their family affairs in public. As for Meghan saying that she had never googled Harry... yeah, pull the other one, it's got bells on. Telling stupid lies like this just makes everyone wonder what else she's lying about. Ditto saying that she didn't know what the royal family was like. Give me a break, everyone knows what the House of Windsor is like. She may not have realized how confining and rigid that existence would be, may have believed that all of the rules wouldn't apply to her, or that she could bend them to suit her purposes, but attempting to portray herself as a naive ingenue rings very false. As for Harry, is there anything more breathtakingly arrogant and pompous than suggesting to his family- including his grandparents who have experienced among other things, war and a relative being murdered by terrorists- that they need to educate themselves so that they can be enlightened, like himself? I can only imagine the relentless mockery which would result if I tried that line on my family. Or if I'd tried it on my late grandmother, who lived through the Halifax Explosion, war, and much loss, including that of a teenaged son. She would have no doubt pulled out her wooden spoon and given me an education in respecting my elders. Really, the insufferable sanctimony of that statement is sick making. Of course, as a connoisseur of fiction my attention was caught by Meghan comparing herself to the Little Mermaid, who loses her voice in order to win the prince she's in love with. What Meghan fails to acknowledge however is that the Little Mermaid was desperate to join the prince's world; so desperate that she was willing to sell part of herself to do so. Life in the royal family is one of great privilege but it comes at a cost, which includes having your freedom curtailed by the duties required by the Firm and not voicing your opinions on a lot of things- including politics, which Meghan seems fond of doing. If you want that life's benefits, you have to accept the associated costs. Of course, Meghan was talking of the Disney movie but if you've read the actual story by Hans Christian Andersen, you know it's actually a lot darker. When the Little Mermaid gains her legs, she can walk- and dance- beautifully, but it's always extremely painful to her, described as feeling as though she's constantly walking with knives stabbing into her feet. But she wants the prince badly enough that she pins a smile on her face and dances through the pain. I'm not suggesting that anyone stay in a life that makes them miserable; if it's too painful, stop dancing and walk away. But perhaps be gracious enough not to blame the prince's family (however dysfunctional) for buyer's remorse. They didn't force- or even ask- the Little Mermaid to become part of their world; she made that decision herself and eventually paid the price for it. That's what personal responsibility is about. At the end of the fairy tale (not the movie) the Little Mermaid, having failed to win the prince, is offered one way to break the spell and save her life: she must stab the prince and kill him. She refuses to do this and, sacrificing herself, slips quietly away to become sea foam. If Harry and Meghan have decided that they can't deal with the royal life and want to live on their own terms, more power to them. But maybe they could've tried slipping away quietly and not stabbing everyone (figuratively, of course) on the way out the door. At least, unlike the Little Mermaid, they still have their health, their kids, and a buttload of money. Related Posts:On Friday night, we weren't able to get together with the usual crew for dinner and Road To Avonlea, so a few of us watched a movie together instead. Someone suggested giving the 2020 version of The Secret Garden a try, which we did. Unfortunately, it wasn't very good; it was boring and rather pointless... the 1993 version, while not without its flaws, is much better. Contrary to how it may appear, I'm not completely opposed to movie remakes. I'm merely against making them for no other reason than as a shameless money grab (cough, cough, Disney). Also, I'm opposed to changing an author's intended themes and replacing them with others which you prefer their work to have. Have a message you want to push? That's fine, but don't shoehorn it in to a work whose creator very obviously had other intentions. Here's an idea: write your own frickin' book or screenplay. But in a movie landscape which seems to consist mainly of pointless remakes and endless sequels this, alas, is a pipe dream. So when do I approve of movie remakes? When the previous film was bad, not doing justice to its source material, or when it has something new to glean and portray from its source. As I said in my review of the latest Ben Hur debacle, there is content in the original book which has never been explored and could definitely justify revisiting the work, but they never bothered. The same applies in a more limited fashion to The Secret Garden... there is room for a movie that, for instance, includes the stuff about Martha & Dickon's mother which has, as far as I know, never made it onto the big screen. But, as with Ben Hur, this film doesn't return to the source to glean new material or fresh ideas; it retreads old ground, adds in things which weren't in the book and, worst of all, casually dispenses with the author's- Frances Hodgson Burnett- central thesis. Well done, all. But I am getting ahead of myself. The movie gets off to a weird start as we realise that they've changed the time period in which the story is set, bumping it up from turn of the century to 1947, in the aftermath of W.W. II. There seems to be no particular reason for this, other than it was the time frame of India's partitioning but since this plays no discernable role in the film, it's rather pointless. Of course, it does provide an opportunity for the film to take a jab at British soldiers. In this movie, Misselthwaite Manor is a dingy, rundown hulk with its grounds torn up. Mrs. Medlock - the housekeeper- sourly tells a newly arrived Mary that this is because during the war British soldiers were barracked there and made a mess of the place. If they wanted to have the Manor in a shambles- for some impenetrable reason- the obvious thing would be to have it fall victim to a German bombing during the Blitz... I'm not sure why they felt the need to slag off British troops- the ones who had, ya know, been fighting actual Nazis- instead, but here we are. Having the Manor be a dingy mess also interferes with what is supposed to be the central theme of the story. In the novel, the Manor is perfectly preserved- almost like a museum, and not a welcoming atmosphere for children. It is the garden which, locked away and forbidden, is a sad, neglected place in need of tending... a metaphor for the problems afflicting various characters. But we'll revisit that later. Archibald Craven is played by a dispirited looking Colin Firth. He is, of course, supposed to be hunchbacked, but the so-called lump on his back is so small that it is barely noticeable beneath his suit coat (frankly, it just looks like his shirt is bunched up a bit under it), and doesn't impede him from standing upright, walking normally, or anything else. The way Medlock goes on to Mary upon her arrival, telling her not to stare at his "affliction" you'd be forgiven for expecting Quasimodo. But instead, he's just frumpy and grumpy. The actress playing Mrs. Medlock has one expression: sour. She has none of the charms of 1993's Medlock, played to snappish perfection by Maggie Smith. The child actors aren't bad but again, there's something lacking in their characters... they're just not very interesting. Since this is a problem right across the board, I'm going to blame the writing and direction rather than the actors. The biggest problem with the movie is, however, the Secret Garden itself. To begin with, for some odd reason, almost all of the plants in the garden are tropical ones. The film takes place in Yorkshire. Now, I admit that I'm no gardener... I barely remember to water my house plants. But it seems unlikely to me that a tropical rainforest is going to thrive in northern England- on a moor- especially when it's purportedly been untended for years on end (this movie's done away with the estate gardener who used to sneak in and do a little bit of work around the place). Also, how could this garden possibly be secret? It seems to cover literally acres of land, being comprised of the previously mentioned tropical areas, stream, pond, castle ruins, open field... it just goes on and on. And the garden paths are not overgrown after years of being unused. Come, now. The rejuvenated garden is supposed to be a metaphor for what happens in the lives of Mary, Colin, and Mr. Craven. At the beginning of the book, Mary is an unhealthy, unpleasant child who resents her now dead father and mother because they were indifferent parents, too caught up in their own interests to pay much attention to her. Colin is neglected/isolated by his father for the opposite reason: he cares too much and is afraid that he will lose his sickly son. This has resulted in Colin being weak, fearful of everything, and prone to panic attacks and sudden rages. His father cannot get over the death of his wife and this leads him to keep himself isolated from his home and son- and to have locked up the garden. The once-loved garden has been neglected for years and fallen into disrepair. The once beautiful and plentiful roses- the favourite of Colin's mother- have ceased to bloom. When Mary and Dickon start working in the garden, they plant seeds, prune and weed, bringing the roses- and the rest of the flowers- back to life. And as Mary concentrates on something other than herself-fixing the garden and, eventually, Colin- and basks in the warmth and friendship provided by Dickon, Martha, and their family, she gradually grows and blooms into a happy, well adjusted girl. This eventually works for Colin as well: he becomes healthy and happy as he begins going outside to the garden with Mary and Dickon. And together they bring around Mr. Craven. As the garden heals, so does their family. In the 2020 movie, the children do not tend to the garden. It is already a tropical paradise and they just go there and play. There is no period of growth and change... this film takes place in a short amount of time instead of spanning the better part of a year. The theme of the neglected and unhealthy blooming and becoming whole through work, love, and care is the central theme in the book- and the 1993 film. But it isn't to be found in this film. Consequently, the makers of the movie toss in a whole lot of filler, apparently hoping to distract from the problem that there is no longer any point being made. For example, we now get a back story of how Mary's mother was so distraught over the death of her sister (in this movie, Colin's mother though not in the book) that she sinks into deep depression and this is why she doesn't pay attention to Mary. They also change the circumstances of Colin's mother's death, and there's a side issue of Mary finding hidden letters from her mother and aunt- oh yes, and both of the women come back as ghosts. Yeah, that's seriously a thing here, I kid you not. Then, obviously fearful that the film still wasn't eventful enough, the writers decided to go all Jane Eyre on us and have Misselthwaite burn down, caused by a tipsy Craven not noticing that he has set the desk- right in front of him- on fire. And you'll never guess who saves him: that's right... while everyone flees the Manor, Mary charges into the burning house, running through the flaming hallways until she finds her uncle stumbling about muttering to himself like a complete idiot, and then gets him out by, um, following her mother's ghost. Because, to judge by almost every present day movie, female characters can't be strong unless they're action heroes. It is such a cheesy and cringe-y scene in which Craven is portrayed as a bumbling dullard- with suicidal tendencies- so that Mary can save the day. Also, it's a mighty strange fire... it started in her uncle's study on one side of the house, and when Mary arrives, it has spread to both sides- on all floors- except that the stairway which intersects the two sides has not been touched by the fire, allowing Mary to go up it to search for Craven... how exactly did the flames get to the other side of the house without burning the staircase between them? Then, while their ancestral home is burning to the ground, and the fire department is pulling up, they all go wandering down into the not-so-secret garden for the grand reconciliation scene with Colin. I mean, I'm all for families reconnecting, but is this really the time? They all just stand about in the garden, talking about their feelings and no one even brings up the fact that they're all going to be homeless in a few minutes, or seems upset that the manor which has been in the family for hundreds of years is literally turning to ash while they chat. It's bizarre. If I was a member of the fire dept., I'd be wondering if perhaps someone had been angling for insurance money. Just saying. There's the requisite happy ending, and the film ends. In the end, this movie doesn't work on any level. It's characters are either just bland and forgettable, or unpleasant and forgettable. Of course, Mary and Colin are supposed to be unpleasant to begin with, but this movie doesn't do the work of showing their gradual transformations and why they happened. And so, when their characters and personalities change on a dime, we don't care. Also, by completely disregarding the central theme of the story, this movie literally has no point. It's just a series of events which happen and the filmmakers seek to disguise its hollowness and superficiality by adding in a bunch of random, unfaithful-to-the-book occurrences, such as burning down the house. If you want to watch a decent version of The Secret Garden, check out the 1993 film, not this one. Or better yet: read the book.
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