Director's Note

by Ben Galosi

In Buddhist training temples, a wake up bell prompts the unfolding of a daily ritual. This routine consists of donning the same clothes and performing the same rites in the same place every single day. Yet, unburdened by desire for change in circumstance, each moment of this ritual lifestyle maintains a sense of individuality and beauty. Fortunately, one does not need to dress themself in a kāṣāya or travel to a Buddhist monastery to engage in this philosophical framework. Many of us may already feel like the monotonous routines of our everyday lives are quite similar to this disciplined conduct. Without a change in our circumstances, how can we infuse our existences with the same sense of mindfulness as those who live under the pātimokkha discipline? What we may be missing is a strong vehicle towards inner development—which I believe can only be found within ourselves, our relationships, and our communal art. Apart from being heartwarming, hilarious, and set in the great state of PA, my primary lure towards producing Groundhog Day was these Buddhist principles at the core of its story.

It is my understanding that Groundhog Day is probably the greatest parable of our time. The title itself has become so folded into contemporary vernacular that it has almost grown independent of the 1993 film, as well as the iconic Pennsylvania Dutch tradition that first claimed the phrase. Groundhog Day has become a recognizable piece of phraseology that points towards our own perpetually repetitive existences. The inherent absurdity of human life and the prison of our own identities may be the most universal and timeless subjects to explore. Groundhog Day chooses to investigate these existential questions through the figure of Phil Conners, a curmudgeonly weatherman trapped in small town Pennsylvania. 

Through the course of the story, we are asked to give our attention to Phil as he undergoes what is essentially an extensive period of psychoanalysis. In the Buddhist framework, Phil is experiencing saṃsāra: the continuous cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Phil’s entrapment in a bleak winter forces him to face the prison of his own identity and plunges him into a cycle of hedonism and destructive nihilism. The hope of this thought experiment is that this extended spiritual crisis will lead Phil away from egotism and unhealthy desire. Eventually, his choice to pivot his lifestyle from an extractive experience to a subtractive experience transforms his karma and releases him into nirvana. The real voyage of discovery, as Proust puts it, exists not in seeing new landscapes, but having new eyes. Unable to adjust his spatial or temporal landscapes, Phil is forced to alter his internal perspective, adopting a mindset of  mindfulness that allows him to be present in the moment of his monotonous daily life while also carrying the thread of goal-oriented behavior.

I wanted ritual to be a primary element of this production. On the surface, this alludes to the ritual daily routine of Phil Conners, as well as the quasi-religious ritual of Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney and its ancient roots. On a more abstract level, I am constantly curious about the ritual experience of a theatrical event. This production exists in a space that encourages introspection and mindful observation—a reminder that every moment of our lives presents a new beginning, and every choice we make has an impact on the community around us. I have been thinking a lot about the Japanese idiom of mono no aware, which portrays a sense of empathy towards the impermanence of things. By examining our own impermanence through the most ephemeral artform, I hope this production allows us to embody the spirit of Phil and—if we are lucky—begin to more clearly see our own shadows.