Every great story has its own essence. And when it is stripped off that, it becomes a story that easily you and me or any John Doe could write. "Flowers in the Attic", written by Virginia Andrews, is a gripping tale of broken trust, betrayal, and complex human relationships that seem so natural under the circumstances, however forbidden they were to be. It's such a pity that such a novel should fall in wrong hands for its screen adaptation. The movie horribly lacks the original soul of the story, its sinister twists, its surprises, its adventures in sociology.<br /><br />The story is like this: after their father dies accidentally, Corrine, the mother, takes pre-pubertal Chris, Cathy and little twins Cory and Carrie to her own wealthy parents hoping she would inherit from his dying father. But there's a catch; her marriage had been earlier disapproved by the old man and he won't let her a penny if he finds out she has children. So she and the equally cruel grandmother lock the kids up in the attic... until the fine moment comes when she'd win the old man's heart back and tell her everything. But that day never comes while Corrine herself marries another man and eventually inherits the money... without telling her father about the children. In the meantime, Chris and Cathy grow up through teens and discover each other quite fruitfully, and eventually all four of them become a family, sharing a special bond made out of the feeling of being betrayed, and the longing to escape, which occurs not before three years.<br /><br />The movie changed a lot of it. Some I didn't mind, but some are really outrageous. The account of mental and physical growth of the children during the course of time is largely left out. The movie shows Chris and Cathy in late teens right from the start, which ruined the basic message behind their relationship. In the book the twins played an enormous role in building up that relationship between their older siblings. The movie did not treat them as characters, to put it flatly. And how the movie ends, it may look dramatic in a rather happy-ending manner, but comparing to the book, it is overtly exaggerated, giving the whole thing a cheap smell. The book's climax is not dramatic, yet far more thrilling than this crap about the kids meeting their new stepfather. And finally this sick hush-hush about the incest! Somebody who liked the movie considered the brilliant plot of the novel just an excuse to write about incest, and told me it's good how the movie avoided the details. Nonsense! incest in this story comes as the most natural thing on earth. And how wonderfully indifferent Andrews is when she writes about it, the storyteller being Cathy. The movie blandly leaves a large part of it out, making the whole movie seem, well, infertile.<br /><br />For the casting, only Louis Fletcher made a great grandmother. She is right there in her Oscar-winning standard. But besides her, it's all a bad casting throughout. Kristy Swanson as Cathy is just disgusting. How can she act so blunt when she's the central character? Jeb Adams as Chris may not look like he's described, but he acts not that bad. And Victoria Tennant as Corrine too, receives little screen time to be judged well.<br /><br />I wish there hadn't been a movie. You cannot make an art movie through three years, and you can't easily show a 13-year-old girl naked performing incest, both of which are absolutely necessary to make a good screen adaptation out of the story. But I don't want this crap to be remembered as the only movie out of Andrews' novel. I now want a remake, however controversial it may be, whatever ratings it may get.