David Renshaw 

‘The world is in a state of turmoil’: why time-loop movies resonate in 2020

From the repetitiveness of lockdown to the grim familiarity of George Floyd’s death, this summer has added dark layers to one of film’s favourite formats
  
  

Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell in Groundhog Day
Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell in Groundhog Day. Photograph: Allstar/Cinetext

‘What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same and nothing that you did mattered?” This is what Bill Murray’s character, Phil Connors, asks in 1993’s time-loop classic Groundhog Day.

This hypothetical has also been an uncomfortable reality for the past three months in lockdown as we live our own version of 2 February in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, over and over again. Like Connors, you may have developed new skills such as playing the piano or ice sculpture. Unlike the jaded weatherman’s pursuit of the TV producer Rita, any budding romances in 2020 will have been reliant on arranging an awkward Zoom date.

Danny Rubin, who co-wrote the film with Harold Ramis, laughs when he considers the way in which fiction has become reality, although he suggests the experience is “more like a jail movie”: “‘What has my life been reduced to and how can I make it bigger despite the walls around me?’” he says. He sees more similarity between Connors’ experience and “the scientific trials for a vaccine that rely on repetition and minor changes in order to make a breakthrough”.

Rubin’s idea set the template for time-loop movies, with the plot device – a character living the same day repeatedly – becoming a Hollywood favourite. The writers of Source Code (2011) and Edge of Tomorrow (2014), for example, used repetition and action to craft two fine sci-fi movies. Meanwhile, the forthcoming romcom Palm Springs throws a couple into the mix, with Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti, falling for each other while endlessly tumbling through the same destination wedding.

The appeal of the time-loop film is clear: who doesn’t dream of being able to relive at least one day in their life? However, the experience of lockdown may have turned what once seemed like a far-fetched dream into a triggering reminder of a thoroughly miserable moment for humanity.

Christopher Landon, whose 2017 horror movie Happy Death Day spawned a 2019 sequel, suggests that the time-loop trope has always been a little nightmarish. “These movies are never set on the best day of your life,” he says. “There’s a real phobia of being trapped somewhere. Especially on a day that’s not terribly exciting.” This is certainly true of Happy Death Day’s Tree Gelbman, who spends the duration of the film attempting to solve her own murder. Each time she dies, her day starts over and she must try to establish who the slasher in the terrifying baby mask is once again. The only thing comforting about watching Happy Death Day in 2020 is that the masked killer is covering his mouth and nose.

Landon says that he has been contacted by many fans on social media who have discovered his films while staying indoors. “People relate to them right now because not only are we stuck in the pandemic, but the world is also in a state of turmoil,” he says. “It’s funny and tragic. I don’t want people to feel like they’re stuck in the same day and getting murdered over and over again.” Landon even suggests he is plotting a third instalment inspired by recent events, although he is reluctant to divulge any of the gory details.

See You Yesterday, produced by Spike Lee, is another time-loop film connected to the horrors of reality. Stefon Bristol’s 2019 Netflix movie was inspired by the 2014 Ferguson protests, sparked by the fatal shooting of Michael Brown by police in Missouri. Set in Brooklyn, New York, the film loops a day in which a time-travelling teenager, CJ Walker, loses her brother in similar circumstances, highlighting the bleakly repetitive nature of police brutality in the US.

“We see these same images of young black people being killed over and over again,” Bristol says. In his film, the time loop is “a symbol to highlight these tragedies. New names, but same story.” Bristol points out that time travel is not necessarily an escapist fantasy for black people, for whom the past is often a hostile environment. “Everyone wants to go back in time and see what if …” he says. “I never want to go back in time. Experience and pain is the best lesson. Leave that shit for the movies.”

Between the pandemic and a painful reminder of power’s corruptive force, this summer has added a dark context to one of film’s most beloved formats. What, if anything, can we learn from these films as we emerge from lockdown and start looking forward?

Rubin suggests that Groundhog Day may offer pointers. “Phil goes from thinking only of himself to considering the feelings of those around him,” he says. “Expanding from selfishness into empathy is something we need.” He adds: “When you stop seeing things solely from how you profit from them and start looking at them from new perspectives, that leads to doors becoming unstuck. Some people get there eventually and some never do. Right now, we need a little more balance.”

 

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