When the movie Groundhog Day was released in 1993, it was a success. It didn’t break any records or rake in a pile of awards – after all, this was the same year that brought us Jurassic Park, Schindler’s List, Mrs. Doubtfire, and many more – but it made good money and got decent (if not glowing) reviews.
In the decades since however, it has enjoyed a legacy that matches any of those other box office giants. It has become revered, analyzed, adapted. Discussed in great length for its moral, philosophical, even its Buddhist undertones. It’s become so embedded in our culture that its title has become shorthand for the feeling of being stuck in an unpleasant cycle.
The movie’s followers are devoted. Many fans have made a habit of watching Groundhog Day every year on February 2nd (I’d love to see the streaming stats on this; it must be the video streaming equivalent of the spike in Mariah Carey’s audio streaming stats as December 25th approaches each year.)
One of those committed annual watchers is author Naomi Alderman, who has described the movie’s effect on her life like this:
Every now and then, when I feel like I have either been through some hard times or that I’ve somehow become a little bit too blasé about my life, I spend a month, every single day, going to a place that I have not been before. […] And at some point in that month, what happens is, I receive “the benediction” — that’s what I call it — which is, at some moment, I will suddenly become aware of the incredible beauty and richness of everything around me.
So, I would look at a brick wall and suddenly be completely struck by the difference and the there-ness, the this-ness, of every single brick in that wall and how much has gone into just even creating that single wall, and then, look — someone’s put windows in there. And look at the plants — there’s a little bee that just buzzed past me. And when you look at the world that way, when you look at the world with Phil Connors’s eyes, when you go right through the sense of ennui, through the despair, right through to the other side, and all you can see is how amazing it is to just be allowed to be alive right now.
I’m a bit ashamed to admit that the last time I saw Groundhog Day was in the theatre, in 1993. But I plan on re-watching it again this week. After all, if any movie deserves to be experienced more than once, it’s this one.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. Composed by legendary film scorer George Fenton, this brief instrumental comes at a critical point in protagonist Phil Connor’s arc, when he learns the limits of his own power, and turns his efforts towards making the day better for others.
2. The twinkling synth arpeggio that’s stuck in a loop.
3. At 0:58, a descending bass line emerges that changes the feel of the synth part, giving it the illusion of newness when it actually hasn’t changed at all.
Recommended listening activity:
Writing, in as much detail as possible, everything you did today, and then sealing it in an envelope with strict instructions to yourself to open it on this day next year.