Like an idiot, I missed Groundhog Day when it initially premiered at the Old Vic in 2016. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, it had won several Olivier awards, left London, and transferred to Broadway – where it was nominated for seven Tonys but inexplicably didn’t win any before closing in 2017. In comparison, Tim Minchin’s first musical, Matilda, won armfuls of Tonys and every other award going, spawned multiple international productions, and is still playing in the West End. While
it would have been mind-blowingly impressive for his sophomore show to reach those heights, something many composers dream of happening even once in their careers, the wind wasn’t behind
Groundhog Day, and it was relegated to the production vaults in one of Cameron Mackintosh’s mega-mansions until the passing of a Trump presidency and global pandemic. Just as we needed it however, in the year of Our Lord Alison Hammond 2023, the show has finally
returned to its alma mater.

Andy Karl returns to the role of jaded weatherman Phil Connors for the
third time, sent to present the annual Groundhog Day broadcast in the small town of Punxsutawney. Tanisha Spring joins him as Rita, the producer who must put up with his arrogance and lack of enthusiasm. The original Groundhog Day (1993) has entered the cultural lexicon so completely that the film’s concept is universally familiar, and fortunately this is all you really need to know, if anything. Soon Phil finds himself stuck in a smalltown time-loop as the days start to repeat themselves, and we follow his journey from incredulity and self-destruction to gradual redemption. Karl plays the sardonic lead to perfection, turning his vocal talents effortlessly from musical theatre to rock as needed, and clearly has a brilliant time as the foil to the townspeople’s folksy optimism – reflected in the multiple awards he has won for the role.

Tanisha Spring plays his producer and romantic interest, Rita, to perfection; her voice is soaring and gorgeous (someone cast her as Deena in Dreamgirls) and as Phil strays further from sanity and reality, her character anchors the action perfectly. They are supported by an absurdly talented ensemble cast, who effortlessly breeze through
rapid quick changes, vigorous choreography – especially brilliantly in ‘Philanthropy’ – and at one point, puppetry. The staging is brilliantly inventive and fun, most notably during the song ‘Nobody Cares,’ in which Phil, having decided to deal with his situation through drink, takes several locals on a car chase through the town. There are so many great touches throughout; the tiny travelling van, the roaming
giant Groundhog, and Phil’s attempts at escape to name just a few. It makes for an atmospheric, joyful, and occasionally stifling representation of Phil’s day(s) in Punxsutawney as the story requires.

The only weak spot in the entire show was the song ‘Playing Nancy.’ It was sung beautifully by Eve Norris, and is an exploration of ensemble character Nancy’s frustration at the self-fulfilling prophecy
of shallow romantic relationships, prompted by a one-night stand with Phil. Unfortunately, while the show generally establishes the characters of the ensemble cast sparingly but well, here it feels confusing, like the song has been dropped in from another show. It is an astute reflection on the boxes society puts women into, but we never return to Nancy’s character in a significant manner, although it is implied she starts to date Phil’s cameraman at the end, suggesting the start of a more substantial and healthy relationship. It’s presumably intended as ironic that Nancy sings about always being a diversion on a man’s journey, when her song functions as an interlude from Phil’s narrative. Unfortunately, it feels that it may have been better used expanding the character of Rita, whose only solo, ‘One Day,’ while beautifully sung, also focuses on her approach to romance. It similarly critiques the traps of femininity, but doesn’t 100% nail it, suggesting the girl she sings of who is left with a car and an empty house when her rich boyfriend leaves her is stupid for being in a predictable situation of her own creation. However, there is a huge amount to cover with Phil’s narrative alone, and it would be almost impossible to fully flesh out the other characters – but it feels like the time would’ve been better spent on Rita.

I had high hopes for the music, and it is absolutely brilliant; played gorgeously by what sounded like most of the brass musicians in London. As with Matilda, Minchin has masterfully adapted and enhanced the source material’s original themes, creating a score that’s whimsical, witty, energetic and emotional, and pays homage to different genres, yet is entirely its own. The music is atmospheric and masterful, particularly at the start as Phil’s days start to repeat, and mimics Hamilton in recognising the emotional power of an understated final number. It’s excellently supported by Danny Rubin’s book, which matches the humour of the lyrics and both supports and enhances the characters. Like Matilda, the show highlights the profoundness and power of perseverance and hope in the face of adversity, and is brilliantly realised. I left the theatre singing gently to myself, and the songs have been solidly stuck in my head ever since, helped by the Broadway cast soundtrack – with the additional joy of noticing lyrics and musical touches I didn’t catch in the performance. I think I might have to go again.

(Since I wrote that, I am.)