Coming back to 'Groundhog Day'

Is this the best Bill Murray film?

Well, it’s Groundhog Day…again. So, let’s talk about my favorite Bill Murray movie.

Harold Ramis’ Groundhog Day is Ecclesiastes as a romantic comedy. As Phil Connors repeats February 2 over and over, he learns that his pursuit of pleasure, sex, riches and one-upmanship are all vanity. He can get all the money he wants, trick women into sleeping with him and make sure the “morons” get their comeuppance, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever he does, life resets at 6 a.m. Feb. 2, with only Phil aware of the repeating cycle. 

Initially, that lack of consequence is appealing. Phil can drive recklessly, steal money, manipulate women and eat as much as he wants. “I don’t worry about anything anymore,” he boasts to producer Rita (Andie MacDowell). But he soon grows tired and even despairs of that life, especially when he finds that no formula will earn him a place in Rita’s heart. It’s all chasing after the wind. The riches vanish. The fun fades. And even if Rita warms to his charms, she goes back to viewing him as a jerk at 6 a.m. Eventually, Phil drifts into despair and suicide. Just like It’s a Wonderful Life, to which this film has been compared, people forget how dark this film gets in places. While Phil’s suicides have a touch of dark humor, it’s bold of a comedy to even dip its toes into existential despair.

Of course, in the end, Phil finds that what matters is not getting ahead nor getting what he wants. It’s not even to escape the day. Eventually, Ramis drifts from the device of quickly cutting to a new day whenever Phil needs to “reset.” The days blend into each other. We know they’re progressing because Phil is learning new things — playing the piano, trying to save a man from dying — but he’s stopped approaching every repeat as a curse; he’s accepted his fate. There’s a scene about three quarters of the way through where he stays up late talking to Rita and she falls asleep. While she’s sleeping, Phil tells her how much he cares for her and, for the first time, acknowledges what a jerk he is. “I don’t deserve someone like you. But if I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life.” When 6 a.m. hits the next morning and it’s Feb. 2 again, Phil doesn’t mourn it, complain about it or look for ways to screw people over. For the first time, there’s a look of acceptance as he sets out to see what he can learn and what good he can do, and he’s shown learning the piano, reading and serving the people of Punxsutawney. In the end, he gives up on his attempts to woo Rita — instead, she finds herself attracted to the new Phil who’s charmed the town.

There’s definitely a bit of A Christmas Carol to the story — and indeed, I think Groundhog Day is a better take on Dickens’ themes in that story than even Murray’s own Scrooged. But what’s worth noting is that Phil doesn’t escape his fate when he has a change of heart, and there’s no indication that he’s met a quota of things that he needs to do right before the universe will allow it to be Feb. 3. He simply accepts his life and commits himself to being a better person. 

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I love that there’s no explanation given for why Phil repeats Groundhog Day over and again (although apparently an early version of the script chalked it up to voodoo and an angry ex), nor is there some formula he learns that will allow him to become unstuck, although I suppose you could find parallels in some religions that would treat this as a spiritual advancement of sorts. Phil does advance, but it’s not necessarily some sort of karmic reward. He finds contentment and joy in putting others first — the first thing he asks Rita on Feb. 3 is “what can I do for you today.” That he gets to move forward is an unexpected bonus.

Watching it again, I noted just how essential Murray is to the success of this film. Much has been written about the actor’s many faces. In the 1980s he was known for his smarm and ironic disconnect. We loved Peter Venkman and John Winger because they saw through the fools. They knew they were better and smarter than most people, and they loved to remind everyone of that, even as Murray’s charm kept them likable. Later in his career, directors like Wes Anderson and Sofia Coppola honed his ability to play the sad clown, and his smarmy nature took a backseat to pathos. At the same time, we saw the rise of Murray as a real-life folk hero or living meme, showing up at frat parties to do dishes, giving a toast at a bachelor party, or stealing a man’s fries and whispering “no one will ever believe you.” Some of these stories are true. The rest are stories we wish were true.

Groundhog Day is the nexus of the Murrays, if you will. We get the acerbic, “more like a gameshow host” side early on, as Phil’s arrogance causes him to look down at all the “morons” (a term he uses repeatedly to describe the common people of Punxsutawney). It’s some of Murray’s funniest material, especially since — given the character’s eventual redemption — he can be on just the right side of unlikable. In the film’s darker moments, we see the pain that fuels many of his most famous late roles, as the depression becomes too much for Phil to bear. And in the back half, we see the glimpses of Murray the folk hero as Phil pops up around town like a superhero to fix flat tires, perform the Heimlich maneuver and play piano at the Groundhog Dinner. Every personality he’s become famous for is on display in Groundhog Day. Is it the finest Murray performance? Maybe; it’s definitely the MOST Bill Murray performance.

Which is why we keep coming back to Groundhog Day and why its reputation has grown from being a funny and whimsical romantic comedy into one a film that’s just as beloved for its philosophical and spiritual underpinnings.  We love it because it’s relatable — who hasn’t despaired that every day was the same and that life was an ever-repeating cycle of futility? And most of us agree that part of what it means to find happiness in this world is to help others, better ourselves and be grateful for every moment. In the wrong hands, the material would be preachy, pretentious or treacly. Murray is the sugar that helps the medicine go down, the special sauce that helps us keep coming back to Groundhog Day . . . again and again and again and again.