Creation

I expected Creation to be a typically stuffy British costume drama, pretty to look at but otherwise unengaging. However, it happily confounded my expectations. Instead of the hagiography of a great scientist, we have the moving portrait of a deeply tormented man, grieving for a beloved daughter, emotionally estranged from wife and family (his surviving children are convinced he no longer loves them), and badgered by his fellow scientists who regard his work as vital in the battle against religion. Admittedly it doesn't tell the audience much about Darwin's theories themselves, although there are glimpses of the practical nature of his scientific investigation. Rather, we have his anguished procrastination, the deferral of the act of writing. The viewer empathises with the film Darwin far more than with the eminent figure of history. By humanising him, the film not only creates a connection with the audience but it also defuses any tendency towards hectoring (the character of Thomas Huxley isan amusing cameo but one wouldn't want the entire film to adopt that tone) What we have, in effect, is a family (melo)drama that just happens to impact on the writing of one the major scientific texts.
The film doesn't exactly ignore the science. There's Darwin's experiments with selective breeding of pigeons, and there's a real feel for the natural world - Darwin's observations as he walks quietly through a wood, first alone and then with his children; a time-lapse sequence showing how decomposition can also sustain life. There's a flowing relationship between the dual time frames (easily distinguishable via Darwin's hair but with a confusing lack of ageing of the children) as well as a slippage between reality and fantasy. Most obviously this is through the presence of the dead Annie but also through the grief- and laudanum-induced dreams Darwin experiences. The most disturbing of these is when the specimens in his study return to life while leaves cover every surface. An element of fantasy is also present in the stories he tells his children about his travels: the "savage" children who ultimately can't be civilized; the heartbreaking tale of Jenny the orang-utan. To modern eyes, they also indicate some of the impulses of the age (the exploitation of exotic lands, people and animals; the urge to civilize; the spirit of scientific investigation), not necessarily all for good.
In the end, it's only by allowing himself to properly grieve that Darwin can heal. The loss of Annie had left a festering wound, full of guilt and recrimination between husband and wife, that they had never discussed. By allowing things long-unsaid to be aired, they can rebuild their life. The return to physical and psychological health enables Darwin to begin writing in earnest, though of course the recognition of the religious POV (of Emma, of Innes and of society at large) still weighs on him. He knows full well what his theories mean for his opponents, particularly his wife. Maybe more could have been made of this, but it's threaded throughout the film so that you are aware of it but never oppressed by it. That would be another film with an entirely different feel.