Groundhog Day review: ‘A miraculous show that defies you not to cry’

A musical as miraculous as the events which enfold within it, Groundhog Day is the best screen-to-stage adaptation since Matilda. That Tim Minchin wrote the fantastically quirky music and lyrics for both is a testament to his genius. That Matthew Warchus directed both marks him as a master craftsman. That the show has previously struggled to find a foothold is a bafflement that this Old Vic revival should set right, especially if it gets the West End transfer it so richly deserves.

Based on the 1993 comedy classic, with a book by that film’s co-writer (with Harold Ramis) Danny Rubin, the show played a limited summer season at the Old Vic in 2016 and bagged Olivier Awards for Best New Musical and for Andy Karl as Best Actor in a Musical. It was all set to conquer Broadway the following spring but lasted for less than 200 performances.

I can’t fathom why, because it’s an absolute jewel – faithful to the film, with lines and scenes that fans will be craving, but adding its own twists and whimsies. From the opening number, where a miniature van idles across the stage under a flurry of snow, to the closing moments, where the snow is a beautiful blizzard and our hero has been changed for the better, I had a big, dumb grin on my face – as did everyone around me.

Fittingly for a man forced to live the same day over and over again, Andy Karl knows the role of Phil Connors like the back of his hand. And what a role it is. Originally, brilliantly played by Bill Murray, he’s a cynical sod of a weatherman who is despatched to the small town of Punxsutwaney.

He finds the assignment – to see if a groundhog named Phil will foretell good or bad weather to come – laughable. He finds the local insanely cheerful. He finds the coffee in the B&B he’s forced to stay in undrinkable. And he finds himself in hell when he keeps waking up on the same February 2nd to be greeted by the same small-town banalities that offend his smug sense of self-importance.

Cue increasing hilarity as Phil learns to have some fun with his predicament, wooing the ladies, stealing money and punching folk in the face. He gets shit-faced drunk because he knows he won’t have a hangover the next day and he tries various forms of suicide, knowing that he can’t die. This is done in a montage that is so jaw-droppingly impressive, the audience goes crazy.

Karl is just as brilliant as Murray. His Phil goes around telling kindly townsfolk to “lick my balls” and shamelessly seducing his producer Rita (Tanisha Spring, captivating). He doesn’t appear to have a decent bone in his body but she proves to be his path to better-man-ness in a story that defies you not to cry.

Visually the show is a stunner. Technically it’s a marvel. Comedically it’s side-splitting. Musically and lyrically it’s inventive and witty. It’s one Groundhog Day you’d be happy to be stuck in. I’m going back again. And again. And again. And again. 

Groundhog Day is at the Old Vic, London, until 19 August. Get tickets here.