Selfish and snarky, Murray’s Phil Connors is a Pittsburgh weatherman who plans to be in Punxsutawney, Pa., for just one day: Feb. 2, Groundhog Day. Except that the day repeats itself, with infinitely minute variations, until Phil gets it right. Punxatawney becomes Phil’s Purgatory, or maybe Limbo, a place with this weather report: “It’s gonna be cold, it’s gonna be gray, and it’s gonna last you the rest of your life.” The script for this 1992 film, by Danny Rubin and director Harold Ramis, superbly balances comedy and philosophy. (Is God a Groundhog? Discuss.) But it’s Murray who sells, and inhabits, this rumination on life as an endless repetition of small inanities and indignities. Since Caddyshack and Ghostbusters, Murray has refined his amiable doofus into the minimalist modern man—his posture a question mark, his face a concrete poem of anticipated disappointment. Murray—Man should have won an Oscar for Lost in Translation, and certainly for this film, where he can rise to romance and sink to despair—and be wonderfully funny—all in the same day.