It holds up again and again and . . .

It's no surprise that "Groundhog Day" has acquired a following that's literally devoted. Theologians have dissected its mystical subtext, and religious leaders have noted its relevance to their respective faiths, citing the Buddhist concept of the cycle of rebirth and suffering or the Jewish notion of being returned to Earth to perform good deeds. A series on faith and film at New York's Museum of Modern Art several years ago included "Groundhog Day" alongside more obviously spiritual fare by Robert Bresson and Andrei Tarkovsky. And it's not just the devout who have found the film resonant: Psychotherapists point to its time-looping premise as a metaphor for arrested development.

In its way, even more than such later showcases as "Lost in Translation" and "Broken Flowers," "Groundhog Day" is also the ultimate Bill Murray vehicle. The star's supremely jaded persona is here analyzed, undermined, depleted and finally redeemed. But despite that feel-good arc, the movie retains an edge of ambiguity. Seen one way, it's an inspiring parable of human perfectability. Even a jerk like Phil has the potential to emerge finally as a paragon of decency. But the message is, of course, double-edged. It's the kind of transformative feat that might require endless tries, if not several lifetimes.