Viking Night: Groundhog Day
By Bruce Hall
October 26, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com

He keeps getting stuck with rodents.
Most consumers have no problem loving a huge budget blockbuster. Movies that are meant to appeal to the widest possible audience usually do just that. But some films have a narrower vision, or simply contain more complex meaning than meets the eye. They aren't always art, and they aren't always even very successful. But for a devoted and eccentric few, they're the best entertainment money can buy. Once, beginning with Erik the Viking, a group of dedicated irregulars gathered weekly in a dingy dorm room to watch these films and discuss how what pleases the few might also appeal to the many. Time has separated the others in those discussions so that I alone remain to ponder the wider significance of cult cinema. But while the room is cleaner and I no longer have to skip class to do it, I still think of my far off friends whenever I hold Viking Night.

The philosophical concept of Eternal Recurrence suggests that because of the infinite nature of time and the limited amount of matter in the universe, everything and everyone that's ever existed will at some point repeat itself. For you Battlestar Galactica fans out there, that means "all of this has happened before and all of this will happen again." I kind of doubt there's anything to this, but wouldn’t it be nice to get another shot at everything you ever screwed up? In fact, what if the universe just flat refused to let you move on until you got something right? We’ve all wished for second chances, but living the same experience over and over again just to get one thing right probably isn’t what most of us had in mind. We all have regrets, but for me, one semester of Trigonometry was enough. And getting another crack at a failed relationship probably isn’t a good idea in practice. Lucky for all of us, these sorts of things only happen in movies and it happens to be the point of Harold Ramis' unlikely existential comedy Groundhog Day.

With apologies to Willard Scott, the job of a television weather man is somewhat less than glamorous. And as entertaining as he is, Bill Murray doesn't exactly cut a dashing figure. This is exactly what makes Phil Connors (Murray) and his obscene level of self preoccupation so amusing. With his career path aimed at a cushy network morning show, Phil struts around his current job with one foot out the door, treating both his coworkers and his assignments with oily contempt. It’s pretty clear that his colleagues aren’t too impressed with him in return; none of them seem to enjoy his company or respect his expertise. It kind of makes you wonder how someone like Phil could even hang on to a job, because finding someone capable of reading weather reports from a teleprompter doesn’t really seem to be that difficult. This is probably why despite his bravado, Phil is an unhappy man, and matters aren't helped when he's forced to work under a new producer (Andie Macdowell) and assigned to cover the Groundhog Day festival in Punxsutawney, PA.

With Producer Rita and Cameraman Larry (Chris Elliot) in tow, Phil makes his way to the sleepy borough outside Pittsburgh, best known as the home of a loveable groundhog who tells us each year when spring is coming. Certain that such an assignment is beneath someone of his many talents, Phil is openly condescending toward Rita, Larry, the citizens of Punxsutawney and the very concept of Groundhog Day itself. Whether hitting on Rita, belittling Larry’s intelligence or scoffing at the friendly small town citizens who have welcomed the media to their town, Phil goes out of his way to burn as many bridges as possible during his stay. Unfortunately, he and his colleagues become trapped in Punxsutawney due to a blizzard – one which Phil predicted would not happen – and Phil discovers that the little town he’s come to despise like a disease is going to be his home for a few days. With one final temperamental spasm of hatred, Phil turns in for the night and resigns himself to this terrible fate. What he doesn’t realize is that things haven’t even begun to get terrible, and Fate has only just begun to mock him.

He awakes to discover that it is once again Groundhog Day. Each event from the previous day repeats itself exactly; from the woman who served him coffee in the morning to the adorable Groundhog’s prediction, to the way the wind was blowing right before Phil went to bed. Assuming that he’s imagining all of this, Phil gamely plays along, only to discover that the phenomenon repeats itself daily. Through some cosmic luck of the draw, the most despicable man in Pittsburgh has been doomed to live the same day over again unless he can find a way to be less despicable. At first Phil’s attempts are self serving; he’s the only one in town who seems to be aware of the time loop, so for a while he uses the things he learns each day to take advantage of the people around him. Then, he decides to try to find ways to help, but again in a manner that benefits mainly himself. And finally in one of the film’s darker stretches, Phil becomes despondent and begins killing himself in creative and morbidly amusing ways, only to wake up in the same bed, forced to repeat whole thing again. Eventually he decides to confide the problem to Rita, whose gentle demeanor begins to make an impression on the crusty weather watcher. Contemptuous people often act the way they do because they’re not nearly as confident as they seem, and Phil turns out to be no exception. He discovers that the solution his dilemma might lay in the process of self discovery and that helping others may not be the key so much as it is addressing his own flaws and finding ways to help himself. Only then, the movie assumes, can any of us become the sort of person whose life is a benefit to others – and there’s probably a lot of truth to that.

Murray’s impeccable comic timing and strong dramatic instincts anchor the movie from beginning to end and keep it buoyant even when the story occasionally loses momentum. Most of Murray’s greatest best work has been in films that simply wouldn’t have been the same without him, and Groundhog Day’s combination of beguiling warmth and sour philosophical theory might not have worked well with anyone else. I am now going to go ahead and take the obligatory cheap shot at Andie MacDowell. Her almost complete inability to act well almost always weakens the material around her, and it’s pretty much par for the course here. It is impossible not to wonder whether an actress with better presence might have been cast, but that’s just what you get with her. But where MacDowell does have strength as a performer is in her ability to exude honesty to an almost uncanny degree. It might sound like a contradiction, but despite her utter inability to deliver lines convincingly, there’s just something so very loveable and sincere about her. And this endows Rita with the only quality she really needs to have; the ability to open Phil’s eyes to what it truly means to be a decent person. This in turn allows Groundhog Day to transcend the realm of crowd pleasing fluff and become something that makes you laugh, but also makes you want to think about why you’re laughing.

If you’ve ever met a truly inspiring person, they usually come across that way because they’re the sort of individual who is focused primarily on their own growth and development, rather than on the shortcomings of everyone around them. When you meet someone who makes you want to live like them and be like them, it changes you. And if you were already a lost soul looking for meaning in your life, sometimes these experiences really can change you forever. In my mind, the purpose of Phil’s entrapment was less about meeting Rita than it was about Phil meeting Phil, in turn becoming the kind of guy who is even able to attract someone like Rita. To live the kind of life you want, you have to become the kind of person who lives that life and for you and me, pressing the "reset" button on isn’t an option. But Groundhog Day suggests to us that it’s the little things about ourselves that make us appealing – or unappealing - to others. You don’t have to be a philosopher to see that a humble woman of quiet confidence can be more inspiring than Pittsburgh’s best known meteorologist, even on his best day. If I had to spend every day of the rest of my life with one or the other I know which one I’d pick, and by the end of Groundhog Day, so does Phil Connors.