Original Sin is so totally airport lounge reading that you gape for a while trying
to comprehend that what you are seeing is actually a film. Lacking in credibility
from the word Pout, 'Original Sin' does nothing more than drag its feet along
for about 2 hours, trying really hard to impress. Sheesh, pass the salad please,
and hold the cabbage, will you?
The film starts with Angelina Jolie rotting in a jail someplace, awaiting her execution. She narrates her story in bits and pieces to a fellow inmate and thus the whole yarn begin to unravel. Luis Durand (macho man Antonio Banderas), a young coffee planter, wants a wife, and arranges for one to be delivered at his doorstep (Weekly Wife... issue 78, vol 8). And when the doorbell does ring, he finds a pair of lips pouting expectantly at him. Who else but Jolie.
He is a bit surprised and somewhat puzzled (heck, with a goldfish in your face, that's the only thing you'd be). But never a man to complain, he takes in Jolie, and both of them steam up the screen for what seems to be a good part of the movie.
It comes to light later that a lady was killed on the same day as Jolie's arrival. Suspicions rise, an inspector (Thomas Jane) and his fake moustache arrive, and things begin to go awry. It's too late, as Pouty's charisma has already entrapped Banderas and he's head over heels. The rest of the film, if you actually stayed that long, narrates the tale of one Billy, and some pretty shady stuff.
Yaawn. The film is pretty seeable in some parts, where Jolie comes across as a tough as nails woman who's out to get what she wants. But then those parts are far and few between as she doesn't have to beg Banderas for what seem to be her wants. Banderas, on the other hand, is total putty in her pout, and follows her all over the place like a faithful kukka. Go away lassie, Banderas come home.
The whole film, with its strained chemistry and misplaced actors and dialogues, caves into itself with a resounding whoooosh. The plucky duo of Banderas and Jolie are too good-looking to bring any sort of credibility to their roles. They look just the way they are - The Prince and Princess of Bel Air.
Original Sin is a sinfully painful film, where almost everything seems to be as fake as the inspector's stick on whiskers. You got an afternoon to kill, take my word for it, get a CD. You'll thank your stars.
As for the rest of it - Banderas... here, boy!