Groundhog Day: A Movie About Second Chances...and Third...and 432nd...

In older times, tribes, villages, and towns, followed the seasons using nature's cues as to when to perform certain duties. Observing when certain plants appeared, or herds of animals migrated into or out of the area were a clock different than the hands that meter out every second of our modern day. It worked rather well; those kinds of deadlines actually meant something - because knowing when to plant crops meant the difference between eating and dying - whereas today...well, a lot of times we're just counting down the seconds until...what, exactly? Until the next presentation? Or sale? Or disturbingly short vacation time? Do you ever wonder if we're doing it wrong? If we lost something in our fervor to move on from the past? After all, the rest of nature had been getting by with those same clocks for millennia.

Now, sure, these observations get a little bit iffy, and at some point in the past, perfectly logical reasoning can often become insane ritual. Through the co-opting of tradition by conquering religions and cultures (not to mention the times when the past simply got it wrong), time can whittle away any sense of the past's logic and beauty till it appears ridiculous and comical, a grotesquerie of what it once was.

...And that's how you get to the point where you use rodents to tell you when winter will end. That's right. It's Groundhog Day. But Groundhog day may be more magical than we think.

The Legend of The Princess Bride: 30th Anniversary

I'm going to tell you a fairy tale.

Once upon a time, a somewhat obscure little movie was released to very little fanfare. It did its stint in the theaters, garnering a modest - though by no means unrespectable - box office for fall of 1987, and then began its trek to video stores and cable. 

It was called The Princess Bride. 

This movie was ridiculous. Based on a book by William Goldman (who also wrote the screenplay), the premise followed a grandfather's reading of a fairy tale story to his sick grandson. The story itself contained pirates, sword-fights, giants, giant rodents, a pit of despair (because who doesn't need one of those), true love, and a near Python-esque humor. It was too self-aware, too meta decades too early. (80's movies, with few notable exceptions, weren't generally well-known for awareness and introspection.) This fairy tale was lacking in magic & magical creatures and had an overabundance of dry wit, self-deprecation, and zaniness.

It wasn't a surprise that this movie hadn't been popular. One look at the poster probably told people too little to know what they were getting into, and movie trailers were still transitioning from the structure of yesteryear to what we recognize today, making it likely that it might have turned people off, rather than persuading them. Worse yet, that summer had a hellish release schedule, with Adventures in Babysitting, Innerspace, Full Metal Jacket, RoboCop, La Bamba, The Living Daylights, The Lost Boys, and sequels for Jaws, Revenge of the Nerds, and Superman, all opening in July alone. This was followed the rest of the summer by Stakeout, Can't Buy Me Love, Dirty Dancing, The Big Easy, Fatal Attraction, Hellraiser, and The Pick-up Artist.

People were exhausted. A weird little meta-comedy about fairy tales may have been too much as folks settled back into their autumn [read: school] routines. And that should have been the end of it.

But instead of fading into obscurity, something else happened to this funny little movie. It turned out that this peculiar fairy tale had not come and gone without notice. People who had seen it in the theaters had contributed to its numbers by telling their friends, co-workers, random people on the street, that they needed to see this movie. And when it came out on video, people caught on. They started talking about it. They started quoting it...and they refused to stop. And then it hit cable...

This is where I come in....