“I’m a God,” says metaphysically fucked Pennsylvania weatherman Phil Connors. Connors, Bill Murray, was made immortal by an accidental clicking of the repeat button on the iTunes of reality in Harold Ramis’s 1993 behemoth of comedic and philosophical quality Groundhog Day.
Groundhog Day is awesome; awesome in the non-colloquial sense (even though it is massively colloquially awesome) of “extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring awe,” like the destructive majesty of a nuclear explosion’s mushroom cloud.
The film’s awesomeness is well-documented; it’s one of those movies that people like to consider an “underrated gem” even thought it’s highly revered. Many want to be the first to discover the deep spiritual and philosophical connotations of the thing, then realize the New York Times wrote about the film’s spirituality in an article about Groundhog Day and religion in the early years of this century. Either Ramis intentionally imbued the film with this brilliance, or he accidentally tapped into whatever bit of the human brain (that thing we all have) the authors of these religions tapped into (insert rambling about the collective unconscious, myth, samsara, human desire to experience the ‘other,’ and some bullshit about Carl Jung here).
It can be accepted that Groundhog Day is a deeply spiritual film, so taking it as parable, what can we learn? How can we celebrate Groundhog Day taking Groundhog Day as spiritual text? Groundhog Day is not a holiday in the sense of being a holy day, but why not make it one by following these three easy steps?