A man has to live the same day over again. And again. And again. (1 hr 41 min)
Mild language, some innuendo. Manipulative womanizing, but nothing more than clothed kissing is shown. You may want to provide context for the sequence in which Phil repeatedly commits suicide. Younger children may have trouble following along with the jumps in chronology.
Don't forget your booties 'cause it's cooooold out there today.
When people call Groundhog Day a perfect movie, what they’re trying to describe is the feeling of astonishment at every stupid choice the film manages to sidestep. There’s no expository setup, no prologue, no prophecy, no curse. We never learn what force or reason traps Phil Connors inside of his endlessly repeating day, and we’re never handed an explanation as to how he manages to escape. But when the film came out it looked and sounded like any other early-90s comedy: homely clothes, heavy-ADR dialogue, a “wacky” score. And fans of Bill Murray and Harold Ramis (who’d collaborated on Meatballs, Caddyshack, Stripes, and Ghostbusters) couldn’t understand how the Murray they loved would ever want to settle down in Punxsutawney with Andie McDowell. But with reflection and repeated viewings the film’s quiet genius revealed itself, in ways that remain capable of hitting adults with a gut-force punch. Families with and without a spiritual tradition can use the movie as a springboard for discussion with their children about some pretty big life questions. But I wouldn’t want to set those expectations going in. —