Here we go again: it’s Groundhog Day!
[NOTE: What could be more appropriate on Groundhog Day than a repeat of an old essay about the movie? The film is a huge personal favorite of mine: very funny, mysterious, and touching. This essay has been slightly edited, of course, because in the spirit of the movie we try to get it better each time.]
In discussions of the film “Groundhog Day” on this blog, I’ve noticed a couple of people questioning why the Bill Murray character would find Andie McDowell’s Rita deserving of all those years of his devotion and energy. For example, “…[W]hat, exactly, made the lovely but, let’s face it, vapid Rita worthy of Phil’s centuries of effort?”
My answer is that he discovered love. Yes, Rita was beautiful, and a good human being with many excellent qualities. But of course she was imperfect, and over the years (centuries? millennia?) Phil no doubt had learned just about all of her flaws. Still, it didn’t matter to him because it wasn’t about Rita, exactly—it was about the fact that, somewhere along the long path of his transformation to wisdom, he finally understood that every person in town, including the ones he couldn’t tolerate at the beginning, was worthy of his attention—and of something one might call “love,” in its broadest sense.
And somewhere along the way to that knowledge, Phil’s efforts in “Groundhog Day” stopped being about getting into Rita’s pants or even getting her to love him, although that certainly took up a larger percentage of his time (and the movie’s length) than some of his other pursuits. But he probably spent at least as much time learning to play the piano (a form of love, too), or to carve ice sculptures, or to become skilled at some of the more mindless and meaningless tricks he mastered, or learning details about the life of almost everyone in town.
Was the old derelict, whose life Phil tried to save over and over and over, “worth it” either? Such questions no longer mattered to him, because the gesture and the effort were worth it, and every life was worth something to him.
Rita, of course, had always been physically attractive to Phil. But as the film (and time) wore on—and on—she became the object not just of eros, but of agape as well. By the end of the movie, I think that Phil had come to appreciate the idea of the theme and variations versus the symphony, which I wrote about here:
And, although walking repeatedly in the same place is very different from traveling around the world and walking in a new place every day, is it really so very much less varied? It depends on the eye and mind of the beholder; the expansive imagination can find variety in small differences, and the stunted one can find boredom in vast changes.
And I submit that love is like that, too. Some people spend a lifetime with one love, one spouse; plumbing the depths of that single human being and what it means to be in an intimate relationship with him/her. Others go from relationship to relationship, never alighting with one person for very long, craving the variety.
It would seem on the face of it that the second type of person has the more exciting time in love. But it ain’t necessarily so. Either of these experiences can be boring or fascinating, depending on what we bring to it: the first experience is a universe in depth, and the second a universe in breadth. But both can contain multitudes.
Towards the end of the film (SPOILER ALERT), Phil makes it clear that he has given up the pursuit of Rita entirely, and immersed himself in his love for her instead. Is this what finally frees him?
[NOTE: Here’s another essay on the film that’s worth reading.]
No-one should ever forget that Comrade Wilhelm (in addition to being perhaps the worst mayor ever of Gotham, although Eric Adams seems intent upon matching his predecessor’s level of incompetence) managed to cause the death, nearly a decade ago, of Staten Island Chuck, who died of internal injuries after being clumsily dropped by “Hizzoner.” It is not only humans who are harmed by worthless leftist officials.
To get different results, inward change is the catalyst for outward change. Very occasionally, hollywood got it right.
I also really liked this movie. And yes, it’s not about how wonderfully lovable or perfect Rita is, but instead about Phil turning into a good human being.
I was a ground hog in the Air Force, as a missilleer. 350 downs and ups.
I am curious what others think- how long was Phil caught in the repeating loop? I don’t think I ever thought of it as centuries, more like a decade or two.
I was googl’ing to refresh my memory and found a lot of interesting information on the Wikipedia page. I think some folks here might appreciate some of the facts here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Groundhog_Day_(film)#Concept_and_original_draft
The script development and Murray, Rubin and Ramis’ disagreements are especially interesting, as are Rubin’s original theories on why it would work.
The creators have claimed ten years.
How many years?
“A line from an early draft of the Groundhog Day screenplay in which the character of Phil Connors admits to being trapped in a time loop for 10,000 years.”
Wouldn’t it have to be for all the scenarios to play out?
Yancey Ward:
Somewhere in an old thread here about Groundhog Day I think there was a discussion of the time issue. I can’t find it now. But I always felt the Phil was undergoing the process for many many thousands of years. Something like 10,000 years. I was surprised to discover long ago that the majority of people thought it was a lot less time than that.
I think it’s a question of how you feel about the speed of personal change for most people. I’ve observed it ordinarily to be very slow.
The film is one of my favorites as well. It’s a beautifully-crafted modern fable about morality, and about man’s ability to transform and ultimately transcend himself. All this – in Small Town America!
I think a lot of the film’s charm and popularity is unintentional, one of those rare alchemies that takes on a glow long after the first few runs – kind of like It’s a Wonderful LIfe. It’s become a cultural meme, one that virtually every American can recognize. And of course the only real tragedy from the effort is the bitter disharmony between Ramis and Murray that became deep-seated and life-long, only to be resolved with Ramis on his deathbed.
There are quite a few scenes that never made it into the movie, but occasionally pop up on the internet. The pool hall scene is one, where Murray casually shoots a perfect game with multiple impossible trick shots – for instance. But really, the final edit is nearly perfect as it is, I think.
10,000 years? No. Phil would have evolved into something different and probably unrecognizable by then. 10 years is much more believable and relatable in terms of a man’s ability to adapt and respond to such a situation. Picture yourself in the same daily event cycle over 36,000 times. You would reach near-omniscience a third of the way there. Think of people that have had careers doing the same thing, and their eventual mastery. 10 – 15 years is my guess.
Sorry, forgot to add the links:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkYDS-aKp5U
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nK3VfZZd4HE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8DL-bQ5gHA
It’s kind of a weird feeling watching these. They ultimately replaced the pool hall scene with the Jeopardy scene.
A bit of trivia I discovered last week:
The Groundhog’s Day Master of Ceremonies in the film is played by Brian Doyle-Murray, who is — alley-oop — Bill Murray’s older brother. Once mentioned it’s not hard to see the resemblance.
Doyle-Murray has had a long career as a character actor since “Caddyshack”. He has often been in Billy Murray’s films.
I didn’t know this, though it’s unsurprising once informed.
From Rufus’ Wikipedia link:
Ramis supervised the rewrite, tasked with balancing Rubin’s desire for originality and the studio’s demand for a broad comedy. The pair loosely used the Kübler-Ross model of the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—as an outline.
I once did a tiny bit of research on the Kubler-Ross work and noticed that while the above psychological progression is the well known one for a successful recovery from a shock, they also had a progression for the failure to recover.
Also, Neo’s last link is a religious take on the film, I think. (Blocked without a subscription.) The only surprising thing to me about the Christian community’s love of the film, is that director Ramis was worried that they’d hate it.
TommyJay, what is the progression for the failure to recover?
Eva Marie,
This is a graphical depiction of it.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_stages_of_grief#/media/File:K%C3%BCbler_Ross's_stages_of_grief.png
Anger leads to catharsis. I imagine the person then makes a choice whether to bargain and accept, or to just get depressed. Oversimplified no doubt.
TommyJay: thanks
I dated this young psychiatrist, Toria, because of “Groundhog Day” and it’s deeper meanings and our shared enjoyment of films.
To her, the counseling role was primarily about patient’s recreating their own painful movies in front of her.
She was a fine woman and deserved a good man in her life. I was unable to be that man because her own family of origin issues overlapped my own too much.
C’est la vie. And yet another movie title pops up in my head to surmise us….a French one.