The Wretch: Triumph over Sin in Groundhog Day

Contributed by Declan I.M. Deady

Spoiler Warning: This article contains major spoilers for Groundhog Day (1993). If you have not seen the film and wish to experience its story firsthand, consider watching it before reading further.

It has been a tradition in my family for some years now to rewatch the classic 1993 Bill Murray & Andie MacDowell comedy Groundhog Day annually on the second of February. This is a tradition to which I have clung since leaving home, as a way to stay connected to my family, even if only by texting quotes into our group chat. While the philosophical undercurrents of the film have always been present in my mind, it is only during my most recent rewatch that I fully grasped why it resonates so deeply—namely, the transformation of Phil Conners, portrayed by Bill Murray.

While character arcs and development are nothing new to fiction (as Joseph Campbell would attest), Groundhog Day stands apart in its clear moral trajectory. It depicts a man already so far in the depths of sin that his first instinct upon encountering hardship is to descend further into vice—yet, remarkably, he still finds the path to redemption.

Groundhog Day is, perhaps, the archetypal time-loop film (Director Harold Raimis estimated Phil as being stuck for 30 to 40 years.) After discovering that he is stuck reliving February 2nd again and again, Phil responds by embracing each of the seven deadly sins.¹ An already prideful man, as showcased through his interactions with coworkers, Phil is arrested on the third day shown, and he jumps for joy when he awakens in his bed, free of consequences, without a second thought for his soul. He is the epitome of how many of us think about freedom, which is to say: he can do anything he wants without being punished. As he puts it,“I don’t worry about anything anymore” (36:44).

Gluttony, an exceptionally easy vice to depict on the silver screen, is shown by Phil gorging himself in a local diner while talking to Rita. Here we see for the first time a direct condemnation of his actions when she quotes Sir Walter Scott talking about “the wretch,” which, as with everything else, Phil laughs off. Why should he care how wretched he is? He is certain that he will never suffer for his actions.

In this wretched state, Phil embraces Greed by robbing an armored car–not to spend the money but simply for the excitement. His Lust, on the other hand, comes from the same place it often does—a failure to consider other people as fully human. This is exemplified by how he manipulates Nancy, a stranger from the diner, into bed, a scene which culminates in a telling moment: immediately after proposing to her, he responds to her moans with “Rita.” When she corrects him with “Nancy,” he dismissively replies, “Whatever.” (40:50).

Likewise, Phil attempts to seduce Rita, but his approach is one of control rather than genuine connection. He meticulously attempts to manufacture her love without ever having to give any of himself to her. Every day that he tries this, however, ends the same way: a hard slap across the face. She will not be won over by such cheap tricks.

Further vices are presented through Phil’s interactions with Ned, an old high school classmate. Believing himself to be the height of celebrity (after all, what greater honor could be achieved than being the weatherman of Channel 9 Pittsburgh), Phil is dismissive of Ned, and he shows yet another sin when he coldcocks Ned as the two meet on the sidewalk (35:37). This Wrath is continued later when Phil repeatedly destroys the clock-radio which awakens him every morning at 6 o’clock.

Phil’s vice begets suffering: he is shown awakening and lying in bed, reciting the dialogue of the two men on the radio—words he has heard so many times before—while staring into space. He does nothing that day, presumably staying in bed until the evening when he goes to the main room of the B&B and watches Jeopardy! Phil has embraced all of the delights of the flesh, indulged in every earthly pleasure, and it has left him lonely, hollow, and tired.

I think that the first time Phil Connors says a true thing in Groundhog Day is almost an hour into the film when he declares, “I don’t even like myself” (55:20). This is when the last, and ugliest, of Phil’s vices becomes manifest—Despair. About an hour into the movie, Phil starts killing himself–repeatedly. In total, we watch Phil commit suicide four separate times, and he tells Rita about an additional seven times. Phil has nothing left. His immortality has become a curse. He has squandered his gift by sin, and poisoned his very soul. Why continue to exist without life within you?

But, Phil doesn’t need to be alone. The true tragedy of his character is that he has chosen to be. He has chosen to hate Punxsutawney and imagine himself as better than it. He has chosen to think of Rita, and Nancy, and everyone else as less human than he. Whether he would admit it or not, these are decisions that he made.

While sitting in the diner with Rita, Phil declares, “I am a god” (1:06:10). But unlike his earlier arrogance, there is no ego in this statement—no demand for reverence or worship. Instead, he is simply asking her to listen. He is begging for a friend. This is the beginning of his redemption, as this is the first time he shows emotion to anyone. They spend the day together, and he seems to actually find some happiness, not in the relentless pursuit thereof, but in the acceptance of his weakness and powerlessness, and an attempt to make the best of it. As they sit together, she asks him, “Is this what you do with eternity?” (1:10:34). In that moment, Phil finally understands—what he once believed was a gift, then a curse, was a gift all along.

The next day, we see Phil attempt to improve, and to truly become a good man. His initial attempts are faltering, but he does make some progress—though, with eternity helping him, he ought to. The final thing that completes Phil’s lesson is the days he spends with the old homeless man. We are never given his name, and no matter what Phil does to try and help him, the day ends with his death. A nurse explains to Phil, “Sometimes people just die” (1:22:00). He is shown cradling the old man’s body and looking towards the sky, towards heaven, after finally realizing that he isn’t any kind of god. Phil is just a man.

Phil’s redemption arc comes to fruition as he runs errands all over town, doing everything in his power to help the people of Punxsutawney, saving lives and helping little old ladies. He ends the night by spending time with Rita, to whom he says, “No matter what happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I’m happy now” (1:34:00). He has left behind his vices—despair, lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, and ultimately his pride. If the time-loop were never to be broken, Phil would choose to live this day forever, helping others as a servant, and being happy because of that. This happiness in servitude is why, when the loop is broken, and he wakes up next to Rita, he asks “Is there anything I can do for you today?” (1:37:00)

The reason for a review of a thirty-plus-year-old film is that this movie serves as an indictment of modern cinema. It illustrates, at its core, the path to righteousness. Despite being a silly, fantastical comedy, it has a true message. It asks that its viewers recall the New Commandment of Jesus Christ, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” (Matthew 22:37-39) and presents them with what comes from ignoring that commandment as well as following it. Groundhog Day is a truly beautiful movie, and one which I will happily continue to rewatch, hoping to someday truly fulfill its message, and live my life for others, and with love.

1. In my rewatch I was unable to find any instances that could honestly be considered envy, so for the purposes of this article it will be replaced with the sin of Despair, which is arguably quite a bit worse