Creation: film review

By Robin Marie on October 17, 2010

Over the weekend I watched Creation, a film about Charles Darwin’s struggle to write The Origin of Species. The struggle that the film focuses on concerns not the amazing intellectual feat that was the theory of natural selection, but the metaphysical and thus emotional implications of evolution, which were compounded for Darwin by the death of his beloved daughter, Annie. Indeed, the film is as much about the process of grief as anything else, and because of this it humanizes Darwin, bringing an often unexplored and rich perspective to the debate about Darwin’s discovery.

The film is based on the book Annie’s Box, written by Darwin’s great-great-grandson Randal Keynes, who discovered a box that had been filled with keepsakes of Annie by Darwin and his wife. The film naturally mixes known facts – including the incredibly touching final request of Annie, who asked Darwin to recount to her the story of the death of the first orangutan in Britain moments before she herself died – with conjectures about Darwin’s state of mind while trying to write The Origin of Species. What emerges is a portrait of a man troubled by the implications of what he has discovered, but ultimately devoted to pursuing the truth and sharing it with the rest of the world.

The movie takes place primarily after the death of Annie, which compels Darwin’s wife to take increasing comfort in religion, while Darwin on the other hand immerses himself in science as a way to cope. While the couple struggle with the loss of personal intimacy and honesty that often follows the death of a child, Darwin’s mysterious health problems, which plagued him throughout his life, return with a vengeance. Darwin’s wife becomes increasingly concerned for his soul, and Darwin, locked away in his study, has imaginary discussions about the implications of natural selection with his now-dead daughter.

The heart of the film is contained in three important scenes, two from the past and one in the present. In the first we are told the story of how Annie was punished by the local pastor when she insisted that dinosaurs existed and, when told to repent, refused to on the basis that her father had told her that physical proof of them existed. Darwin, outraged that Annie was punished in the name of ignorant dogmatism, rushes to give the pastor a piece of his mind – but his begging wife, who does not want community ties to be damaged by the controversy, talks him down. However, the next scene shows Darwin responding to a church sermon – clearly aimed at him – by getting up and leaving in the middle of the service. Darwin described himself as an agnostic, not an atheist, and apparently still believed in God as a moral lawgiver (on a short amount of research, I find the answers on this question to be divided and confusing), but the film focuses primarily on the substantial amount of faith that he did lose.

That is particularly highlighted by the third scene, when Darwin finally confronts his wife about the unspoken guilt about Annie’s death they both share. His wife, well aware of Darwin’s imaginary conversations with their daughter, implores Darwin to realize that she is dead and gone, and to move on with his life. “I know she is dead,” Darwin responds, “you are the one who thinks she is still alive, dancing on a cloud with fairies.”* At this moment the intersection of Darwin’s contribution to science and his personal anguish becomes clear – once you realize our fates are not ordered by a divine being, that everything does not happen for a reason, things like death, loss and suffering become much more challenging for the human psyche to process and accept. In debating with himself whether or not to publish his theory, Darwin is torn between what he knows is true and what he fears others will do with this truth, just as he is torn between his desire to hold on to his daughter and the inescapable reality that she is no longer alive.

These are not the only themes the film explores. It also touches on the inherent amorality of nature, which we see through Darwin’s imagination as a process lacking any resemblance to the will of a benevolent God. The relationship of humans to our closest living ancestors is also explored in scenes which take up little of the film’s total time but seem to constitute an enormous amount of its emotional content.

Theists have often been fond of citing the religious belief of famous scientists as evidence for the existence of God, completely ignoring the social and cultural context that made disbelief in God extremely unlikely until very recently. Likewise, however, it is also not terribly important to atheism whether Darwin believed in God or Christianity, and the film is not focused on debating that subject. Rather, the film is about the persistence of the human condition regardless of – or as those who fear materialism might say, in spite of – our increased understanding of who we are and where we come from. In the most touching moment in the film, a dying orangutan looks up at his zookeeper and they share a moment of intimate connection. What this implies is left open for the viewer to decide – perhaps it means we humans are less alone and less exceptional than we think; but perhaps it also means that all of us mere creatures must eventually face the indifference of nature and the inevitability of death. The emphasis can be placed in either direction, but the movie clearly argues for two things – the reality of death, and the capacity for love.

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* As I have already returned the film and cannot locate the script online, this quote is from memory, but if it is a bit off it still captures the idea correctly.