How does Creation director Jon Amiel hope to entice viewing audiences who could just as easily opt to watch budget-bursting CGI spectacles like Avatar? The answer, he hopes, lies in the name Charles Darwin. Though Creation lacks the glitzy special effects and 3-D graphics rampant in this year’s new releases, its contemplative drama shines a novel light on one of the world’s best-known figures.
Creation follows Charles Darwin’s personal and professional trials as he struggles to write one of history’s most famous scientific texts and the cornerstone of evolutionary biology, On the Origin of Species. Amiel harnesses the power of storytelling to present a relatable view of the man textbooks would have you believe was far less complicated than most of us.
Charles, played brilliantly by Paul Bettany, is depicted through a series of flashbacks showing his younger, idealistic self, as well as his ailing, conflicted present as he struggles to cope with the magnitude of his research. The strapping Bettany transforms marvellously from a young, healthy family man into a sickly and isolated theorist grieving the death of his daughter Annie (Martha West), and trying to overcome the moral uncertainties of his studies. Charles is equally dedicated to his research on natural selection as he is threatened by its ramifications; he fears that evolution will dissolve belief systems and strain his own personal relationships.
Emma, Darwin’s wife, is played in stoic perfection by Jennifer Connelly. A devout Christian, she is appalled at her husband’s theory, which essentially dispels God as the creator of all living things—especially as she finds comfort in religion and the idea of an afterlife following Annie’s passing. The theory of evolution creates an increasingly widening gulf between the two as Charles refuses to believe that any creator could plan to rob him of his beloved child. The battle between religion and science is felt strongly, and Charles begins to feel that the decline of morality rests on his shoulders. This only worsens in an instance when Thomas Huxley tells him bluntly, “You have killed God, sir.”
Amiel quickly glides past Charles’ research and its cultural implications in favour of a tight focus on his personal life. In fact, the scientist’s famed field research and overseas voyages are only alluded to in the stories he tells his children. Creation could work well as a large-scale period piece, but it gets bogged down by the kind of sentimentality usually reserved for the Hallmark movie of the week. A film about one of the greatest theories in human thought is reduced to a family melodrama sprinkled with spooky Tim Burton-esque shots of Charles’ deceased daughter’s ghost haunting him. So much emotional turmoil becomes overkill and far too sappy, detracting from the importance of Darwin’s text.
Amiel does, however, craft beautifully-shot land-
scapes, contrasting the breezy openness of his flashbacks to his dark, claustrophobic present,re-
vealing the plight of the genius before his time. The film chugs along painfully slowly, though, at times feeling as though it is moving at the pace of evolution itself. Amiel intersperses intervals of intense drama with long stretches of meditative glances and sighs. Stronger editing would have helped Creation, which often uses too many words when fewer would have been more effective.
In Creation the authoritative theorist Charles Darwin is shrunk down to an insecure man, himself evolving as a husband, father, and naturalist. But despite its strong performances and success at delving into Darwin’s personal journey, it lacks the vitality necessary to sustain such a multitude of heavy ideas, unfortunately becoming stodgy and repetitive. In short, Creation is perhaps less evolved than it should be.
A film about one of the greatest theories in human thought is reduced to a family melodrama sprinkled with spooky Tim Burton-esque shots of Charles’ deceased daughter’s ghost haunting him.
