‘He changed my life’: why Groundhog Day is my favorite movie | Groundhog Day

There’s a moment in Groundhog Day that really changed my life: just a little bit, I see Andie MacDowell Entering the party rocking with an up-tempo boogie-woogie solo, Weatherman Phil Connors cuts through the band with his hands, removes his shadows, and weaves straight into a rousing rendition of Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on Paganini’s Theme. Has Bill Murray ever looked better in a movie, before or since? He has done it everybody?

To be upfront, it took me a while to act on my love of the climax moment (more on that in a minute) but there’s a lot to love in the show’s period drama even before you get to Connors’ redemption arc. Murray, obviously, gets to show all his different types of humor, moving from a critical scorner to a restless hedonist to an enlightened altruist and somehow keeps us on the whole difficult journey. Stephen Tobolowsky puts in a performance that would steal any other movie as Ned Ryerson (“Nedle-nose Ned! Ned the Head!”), and MacDowell has never played a more beautiful character than Rita, the endlessly patient Phil. But really, the entire town of Punxsutawney should have a more useful title: it’s a place where you can consider stopping for pancakes every morning at a diner where everyone knows your name. Phil might hate it: I love it, every time I look at it.

Groundhog Day is the first (and best) example of a movie genre that continues to be watched in wonder, and remade endlessly. It did not come with the idea of ​​repeating the same day over and over again – Double and double, a short story in which a harmless clerk repeats the same mysterious day over and over again until he hates it, it was published in the 1940s, when Star Trek: TNG did it. temporal-causality-loop episode in 1992 – but it perfected its look, setting the beats that followed each film. First comes confusion and strangeness: not understanding or believing what is happening, trying the obvious, then seeing what you can avoid. Gradually, frustration comes out, since nothing works and the hero turns to more things. Finally, there’s the technology, where our hero learns to navigate through repetitive situations, whether that means avoiding an attack helicopter (a mockery of Frank Grillo. Boss Level), documenting unrecognized moments of everyday beauty (A map of the perfect little things), or giving someone the Heimlich maneuver and learning the weaknesses of everyone in town (Murray).

In most cases, there is a reason why things happen: sometimes the hero has to learn quantum physics or solve their murder in order to survive. But Groundhog Day They wisely avoid any of this – even though they wrote a scene where Phil was cursed by his scornful ex-girlfriend, director Harold Ramis and screenwriter Danny Rubin managed to convince the studio that the loop would feel like it wasn’t explained, and it wasn’t. Does Phil finally escape because he has abandoned the Buddhist journey of Samsara – an endless path of death and rebirth driven by desire, frustration and worldly desires – or because he has convinced someone to love him? Has he reached a good point, or has he just accepted his fate? Did God have mercy on him, or was he just tired? You can make a case for any of these descriptions, and choose one for your next watch.

But there’s another reason I love Groundhog Day, and it’s perhaps best explored by Tim Minchin’s outrageous score (which, luckily, accounts for the film’s cast of a woman whom Connors fools in bed, surprisingly enough. Playing Nancy). The biggest downside to the show is I wish I had my time againPhil/Rita’s multifaceted team that separates all the final items wishes he was able to deal with all the old things he does (“I’ve been wanting to learn to dance” / “Some days I go without pants”), and it’s a song that still gives me chills when I listen to it. Because one time, I watched Groundhog Day and went: what? I’m not going to be stuck in this situation, but I am to do make time, every day, to do one or two of the small things that make a difference in Phil’s life. I may not learn to ice sculpt, but I did learn to play the piano (including, of course, playing boogie-woogie). I will never be loved by my whole town, but I can try to be a little better. And none of us will remember the same day 10,000 times, but we can all try to be a little better, and make life better for the people around us, every day. Sometimes we mess up. But, as long as we wake up in the morning, we can always try again.