The great religions scholar Huston Smith once wrote of Hinduism: "If pleasure is what you want, do not suppress desire. Seek it intelligently… Hinduism says [this], and waits. It waits for the time--it will come to everyone, though not everyone in this lifetime--when one wants more than pleasure."
Phil Connors, the egotistical and cynical Pittsburgh weather man in Harold Ramis’ cult classic Groundhog Day is the Everyman that Hinduism and its sister traditions wait upon as he moves from self-serving pleasure seeker to painful maturation, to eventual contentment and finally liberation. For those few who haven't yet seen the movie, Connors is assigned to cover the Groundhog Day festivities on February 2nd in Punxsutawney PA USA for his Pittsburgh news station. (Warning: Spoiler alerts ahead.) Connors is a maelstrom of ego, snark, and pure unpleasantness. By some inexplicable trick of a fed-up Universe, or maybe karma, he finds himself trapped in a time loop where he's forced to relive February 2nd again and again and again.
When Connors discovers himself in his repetitive trap, his first reaction is bewilderment and disbelief. After accepting his lot, he hits upon the novelty of wallowing in pleasure without consequence. After all, every day is a new beginning and the slate is wiped clean each morning at 6 am. Connors stuffs himself with food. He insults people. He wanders through town like a slob in his bathrobe. He robs banks. He cold cocks an obnoxious acquaintance. He seduces women with abandon.
Yet he's not happy. And here, as Huston Smith notes, the spiritual traditions simply wait. The treadmill rolls. Pleasure alone has lost its charm.
So he turns to romantic love—sort of. Connors pursues his beautiful news producer, Rita Hanson, using the same tricks he used as a seducer. But the Universe has a keen scent for falsity. He doesn't win her heart by pretending. The Universe knows full well when he’s not being sincere, and so does Rita. Her continual slaps in the face are a fierce reminder that nothing but sincerity will do.
By now Connors is ready to get off the reincarnation treadmill any way he can, including taking what might be termed, for him, a shortcut. He finds different ways to kill himself, thinking that will release him from the trap. But it doesn’t. The Universe won’t be fobbed off so easily. Connors continues to awaken at 6 am each day.
Deciding that since he’s stuck there, he might as well do something worthwhile to pass the time, Connors turns his eye to loftier pursuits. He studies piano, learns some French and takes up ice sculpting. He continually plans “the perfect day.” All this is done with the aim of impressing Rita—and it does, to a point. But it’s not until he actually enjoys playing piano, pursuing it for the sake of expression, that it moves him out of yet another self-serving mechanism.
Gradually Connors turns to humanitarian acts. He rescues a thankless child who falls from a tree. He experiences heartbreak when a homeless man he’s been feeding succumbs to cold and dies. He becomes friends with others in Punxsutawney, the town he once hated. And he moves from calculation and manufactured feelings to genuinely caring for Rita. Connors finally comes to view each day, no matter what unfolds, as being in itself the perfect day. It’s only when he becomes a compassionate being that he’s finally sprung from the trap.
Connors' path out of his treadmill existence is the same path trod by every soul in existence on its progression from immaturity to realization. And that’s why Groundhog Day has found fans in adherents as diverse as Buddhists, Orthodox Jews, atheists and evangelical Christians. Over twenty years later people are still writing about, analyzing and studying Groundhog Day. Because it's so rich in substance, it's a movie that's worth watching more than once. Like life, you'll always find something new the next time you experience it.
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