100 Movies Every Catholic Should See #45: Groundhog Day (1993)

Directed by Harold Ramis. Starring Bill Murray.

“An agnostic explains the Roman Catholic concept of Purgatory to Protestants.” 

OK, Sure. 

In short, Harold Ramis’ 1993 metaphysical romance is a comedy with substance. While 1993’s other films, such as Schindler’s List or Cool Runnings, can explore the textures of one emotional subset (the color palates of Cool Runnings and Schindler’s List should make clear which emotions they explore), Groundhog Day explores a vast potpourri of emotions because it is an existential drama disguised as a romantic comedy. It’s a clever film with a dynamite premise that naturally dictates the rest of the plot. That single premise sprouts from a question: if given enough time, can anyone—even the worst of us—become good? Phil Connors (Bill Murray) begins the movie as a catalog of our worst characteristics: he’s a nasty, arrogant, ignorant, mean, fast-talking, skirt-chasing, flippant, covetous old sinner. By the end? Well, you’ll have to watch the movie tonight to find out. I can tell you this movie will make you chuckle and ache, cheer and coo, and giggle and blink away tears. Groundhog Day is one of those rare movies that can appeal to any generation because Phil Connors is not a hero—he’s an everyman. Phil Connors occupies the same place as George Bailey (It’s a Wonderful Life), Ebenezer Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), Christian (Pilgrim’s Progress), and even Everyman (Everyman). He’s fallen, hurt, miserable, and has the capacity for change, just like the rest of us. 

It hurts me whenever I hear someone describe Groundhog Day as “an agnostic explanation of the Roman Catholic concept of purgatory for protestants” or something similar. This sort of pallid review often stems from a good intention, with feeble results. As Catholics, we tend to view art in sacramental and typological terms. We are bred seeing outward signs as physical manifestations of immaterial realities. The water washes away sin. The Body of Christ incorporates all into Christ’s body. These efficacious signs are good and should affect how we create and contemplate art. Salvation history contains seeds or “types” of Christ from Genesis 3:15 onward. It follows that Catholics should seek sacramental and typological imagery in their art. Sometimes, this hermeneutic works. Both C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien richly lacquered their tomes with Christian imagery; applying a ‘Catholic lens’ to their work reveals new depths and dimensions previously unseen by readers like a polish applied to an intricate piece of woodwork. Sometimes, however, this hermeneutic fails. Applying a ‘Catholic lens’ to non-Christian movies such as Groundhog Day can obscure the artistic object and, even worse, obfuscate the Christian imagery itself. Groundhog Day is an excellent film that Catholics should absolutely see. Catholics should also note the movie is not just “an agnostic explanation of purgatory.” 

To clarify, Groundhog Day is not just “an agnostic explanation of purgatory.” The ‘Catholic lens’ produces a ‘valid interpretation.’ Still, Ramis has indicated the film’s Buddhist influences several times, and there are many other ‘valid’ interpretations of the film beyond either of the previous sources. Is the Catholic interpretation doomed to be one among many? Must Catholics set up their little roadside stand beside the psychoanalysts, the Mormons, the Buddhists, and the flat-earthers and hawk our intellectual wares? If Catholics want to keep interpreting the film like a riddle to be cracked, yes. Groundhog Day is not a puzzle to be solved. Even if secret messages were embedded within the film, such messages would not necessarily be the “true meaning” of the film. A particular type of amateur criticism wants to tie a film such as Groundhog Day to a chair and beat it with a phonebook until it gives up its secrets. Is Phil Connors God? Is he in Hell? Is Bill Murray dead? The countless pseudo-philosophical YouTube video essays on Groundhog Day alone can make you feel like you’re living the same day repeatedly to no avail. Approaching films with any sort of lens in an attempt to ‘figure it out’ fails to grasp the Catholic perspective on and purpose of film.  

“Ben, Ben, Ben!” you might gainsay, “haven’t you read your St. Basil? We must sift through Groundhog Day, Gran Torino, or The Dark Knight Rises for a Catholic message!” This point is well taken. Catholics should look for good movies beyond Angel Studios, and that’s it. Catholics should look for good movies, not Christian movies, not Catholic movies, not even pagan movies with a hidden Catholic message. If cinema is good and true, it will be beautiful. If cinema is beautiful, it will be Catholic without even trying. If filmmakers create and critics critique with any ideology in mind—even Catholic ideology—something stale and putrid spawns in beauty’s place. Consider Dante’s Divine Comedy, the ‘Catholic Novel’ par excellence. Dante did not write theologically accurate material. Dante’s domain is the beautiful, which entails truth and goodness. All three of these transcend Latin Rite Catholicism. Can understanding Dante’s Roman Catholic worldview enhance one’s experience of the Inferno? Absolutely. A grasp of Northern Italian politics in the thirteenth century will also help. No one will ever fully grasp the meaning of The Divine Comedy or Groundhog Day this side of paradise—not even Dante or Harold Ramis.  

Films like Groundhog Day allow us to hone a genuinely Catholic sense of mystery and contemplation by being explicit in their mysteriousness. No Logos, Jacob Marley, or god descends from the rafters, indicating the reason for this temporal anomaly. This lack of a reason maddens viewers—and leads to the spilling of much digital ink while parsing out Groundhog Day’s meaning. Instead of trying to understand the whole of Groundhog Day, allow yourself to look at it like you might look at the ocean or a night sky. Contemplate the characters. Savor each moment. Like Phil Connors, realize you’re not a god, and thank Him for the changing of the days. Muse on Purgatory. Dance in a gazebo. Enjoy the film without having to figure it out. 

I love this movie; I hope you will too.