Written by Andreas Babiolakis

It’s February 2nd… Yeah…

“It’s Groundhog Day… again…”

Whether we like it or not, we’re all Phil Connors, who lives the ultimate nightmare of being trapped on the same day (in a town and with people he can’t stand, no less) again and again for what feels like an eternity. Internet sleuths have calculated Connors’ time stuck in Punxsutawney is over thirty years long, meaning he has lived the same day longer than some lifetimes. That’s a disaster. And yet most of us don’t even question why this is; apparently a portion of Harold Ramis and Danny Rubin’s screenplay has been revealed, which explains the reason why this is happening to Connors (obviously, this was cut out of the final film). I’m content not knowing what the intended cause is. I’d like to think this is just one of those things that happens, like life itself and the many events within it. Plus, Connors deserved it.

Again, we’re all Phil Connors or have been Phil Connors at some point in our lives. If we’ve had periods where our character is problematic or unlikeable before we’ve matured, then we’re the blunt, sarcastic, off-putting Connors. Then, there’s the more symbolic side of his nature: we’re all trapped in this existential nightmare of life, where we wake up at the same time to the same alarm sounds, face the same traffic and small talk, and try our best to do our jobs we can’t really stand. I can’t relate to Connors as a person, but I can empathize with his predicament. If anything, I had the clock radio morning announcement (following Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe”) as my alarm sound for many years. Groundhog Day is a fantasy film in the slightest sense, but it’s awfully relatable in ways, don’t you think? Aren’t we all stuck in a funk that feels like the same day for years, just fighting to get by?

Phil Connors facing the winter that traps him in Punxsutawney again and again.

Groundhog Day goes the extra mile by expanding on its peculiar lore (which has been bastardized by pale imitations again and again ever since). Connors begins to use his routine life to his advantage: memorizing the delivery of money to a bank so he can steal some for himself without getting caught, using each day to get better at a skill until he is at a professional level, and learn everything about the townspeople. The film is clever with its progressions. We know Connors is facing the same day again, so we don’t need to see every step of his ice sculpting attempts to know why he got as good as he did (we’re spared of unnecessary montages, save for his futile attempts to charm coworker Rita, which is used as an emphasis on his misery in such a case). His prescience is illusionary to all but us.

Of course, we know Connors also goes the dark route. He learns that he cannot fix some scenarios, no matter how often he lives them. He cannot escape this vortex of failure. He dreams of death multiple times himself, but cannot even carry out this desire (the one thing he is seemingly incapable of in this otherwise omnipresent, all-powerful position (which he considers being the powers of a god that he has now developed). In a life that seemingly has endless possibilities, Groundhog Day goes through as many as it can, and that’s what makes it one of the great romantic comedies of all time. The gimmick doesn’t serve the romance. Everything plays into the niche, even though the film is still a love story at its core.

Connors is able to eat whatever he wants with zero repercussions.

The dramatic irony that drives Groundhog Day is a major piece of the fun, especially when the world surrounding Connors is so oddly specifically identical to any iteration we’ve already seen (Ned Ryerson and his smarmy voice pierce our eardrums every time he greets Connors, and it’s amazing). The only things that change are Connors’ reactions (as he slowly spirals down the drain of the bathtub of delirium), and the outcomes, depending on how Connors responds (a retort, a scream, an evacuation, or an attack). The comedic portions of Groundhog Day are idiosyncratic, and only as successful as they are in this story (again, any film that has tried the Groundhog Day trope has paled in comparison every time). As explained before, the film gets depressing for a short bit as well, fully exploring this unique obstacle until every last drop is wrung out of the story.

Again, this is a love story, and Connors’ warming heart is inevitable but warranted. There’s a fulfilment to Connors beginning to positively respond to Punxsutawney: his heart is warming, he’s grown to love those around him, and has learned to embrace the burdens life has to offer. At the same time, that’s the moral epicentre of the film, and it’s so obviously so: enjoy all of the little things life has to offer, and appreciate those in your life that are also stumbling around trying to figure out their own purposes too. We’re also all Phil Connors in this final way. We’ve experienced life at our darkest hours, but also when we’ve healed and have learned how to move on, with hope and strength in our souls. Groundhog Day is Connors living February 2nd over and over again. Our lives are living Groundhog Day’s entire story arc (figuratively) in the same cyclical, repetitive way.

Bill Murray acting in Punxsutawney Phil’s shadow (indicating six more weeks of winter).

Despite having fantasy elements, Groundhog Day still feels so much like our own existences. Despite the cynicism of Phil Connors and his woes, the film is still fluffy and charming. Despite the repetition within the film, Groundhog Day is easily one of the most rewatchable film experiences of the ‘90s. There are so many paradoxical inner-workings of this film, and yet it feels conventional and impressionable. It’s quite the anomaly. It’s a safe film that’s explorative enough. It’s a rom com that focuses on one character’s sole issues. It’s a warm film that takes place during an endless “big blizzard thing”. if I had to make a list of the undeniable crowd pleasers, Groundhog Day would be on there, given its ability to have something for everybody (whether it’s a joke, a reflection, or a relatable circumstance). Maybe I’m a cinephile, but my brain immediately shoots towards Harold Ramis’ timeless opus whenever I hear about Groundhog Day, as if the holiday itself has zero bearing on my life; Groundhog Day the film, however, has left a never-dissipating imprint on me, my sense of humour, my perseverance through turmoil, and my will to become a better person at my lowest points.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.