Parując wyprane skarpetki,
gdzieś pomiędzy kolejnymi rolkami,
usłyszałem, że największym problemem naszego życia
jest świat, który skutecznie pozwala nam zapomnieć,
że umrzemy.
Gdybyśmy pamiętali,
łatwiej byłoby codziennie rozpoznać,
co naprawdę jest ważne.
Czyżby memento mori
było najlepszym carpe diem?
@JMiziolek Oczywiście, że o to - PiS przecież słynie z wybierania partii. Do tego stopnia, że w interesie partii byli nawet czasem zdolni, łącznie z Morawieckim, do zrobienia czegoś korzystnego - prawie zawsze jedynie pozornie korzystnego - dla Polski.
Groundhog Day is one of the most beloved films ever made. And yes, Andie MacDowell is cute and charming. But that is not why it hits a chord thirty years later with people who can’t quite explain why they keep rewatching it.
The reason is Aristotle. And almost nobody knows it.
1. Phil Connors wakes up on February 2nd. Again. And again. Infinitely. No consequences, no memory from others, no tomorrow. He has been given what every hedonist, every utopian, every system that promises liberation through freedom from constraint has always promised: complete freedom from accountability. The result is not paradise. It is the most precise laboratory experiment in the history of cinema – what does a human being actually become when freed from all consequences?
2. He tries pleasure first. Eats everything, seduces women, steals money. It works, briefly, the way soma works. Then it stops working, the way soma always stops working. He tries knowledge — learns piano, French poetry, ice sculpture — not yet for virtue, but for manipulation. Still instrumental. Still empty. Then he tries suicide. Repeatedly. The groundhog always wakes him. The void cannot be escaped. It can only be filled.
3. This is Aristotle’s laboratory. Not theoretical – experimental. Eudaimonia (read below) cannot be purchased, stolen, or stumbled into. It is not a feeling. It is not a peak experience. It is the condition that results from becoming, through practice, the kind of person capable of it. Phil has infinite time and zero character at the start. The loop is not his prison. It is his curriculum.
4. The turn is the most important moment in the film and the easiest to miss. Phil stops trying to escape the loop and starts trying to improve within it. He learns piano not to impress anyone – nobody will remember tomorrow. He helps people not for reward – there is none. He becomes good with no audience, no record, no consequence. This is virtue in its purest Aristotelian form: the action done for its own sake, repeated until it becomes character.
5. Rousseau would say Phil is naturally good and the loop is oppressing him. The film says the opposite: left completely free, with no social pressure, no consequences, no system to blame, Phil reveals everything that needs work before anything worth keeping emerges. The loop doesn’t corrupt him. It shows him to himself. That is the most anti-Rousseau statement in popular cinema – and nobody noticed, because Bill Murray is just very funny.
6. He falls in love with Rita not by manipulating her — he tried that, it failed spectacularly — but by becoming someone worth loving. You cannot love your way to virtue. You can only become virtuous and discover that love becomes possible. The film gets the causality exactly right – which almost no film does.
Virtue gets you true love.
7. The loop ends when Phil has become genuinely good – not performing goodness, not strategically good, but actually virtuous through ten thousand repetitions of the right choice with no reward attached. Aristotle said virtue is a habit formed through practice. Groundhog Day is the proof of concept. The film hits a chord because everyone senses, somewhere beneath the comedy, that this is how it actually works – that there is no shortcut, no hack, no liberation through freedom from consequence. Only the truth of it. Only the practice. Only becoming, slowly and without an audience, the person you were supposed to be.