"Meatballs" and "Groundhog Day:" It Just Doesn't Matter

Bill Murray stars in two movies that have had a huge impact on me and both have similar messages.

The first is the 1979 movie "Meatballs" in which Murray, playing an iconoclastic camp counselor, counsels his youthful charges that "It just doesn't matter" if they win or lose an athletic competition against a much wealthier and more athletic group of campers across the lake.

Rather than being depressed by Murray's exhortation, the campers are joyful, free of the paralyzing fear of failure that has plagued them. After all, if "it just doesn't matter" if they win or lose, why not just enjoy playing the game?

In 1979, I was struggling to teach reading to students in a Chicago public high school. I was successful on some days and an abysmal failure on others. I recorded the audio of Murray's speech, played it as I drove to my teaching job and chanted, "It just doesn't matter" along with the campers. Murray's exhortation was liberating. I began enjoying the inevitable wins and losses of the "game" of teaching.

1993's "Groundhog Day" is the other Bill Murray movie that had a profound effect on me and, in its message, bears a striking resemblance to "Meatballs."

In "Groundhog Day," Murray discovers he can lie, steal and consume all the carbohydrates he wants because there will be no consequences. Tomorrow, he will wake up and begin the same day all over again. Whatever he does, "it just doesn't matter."

The similarity of "Groundhog Day" to "Meatballs" is observed in a scene where Murray, drinking in a bar, asks two fellow imbibers, "What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?" One of these drinkers responds, "That about sums it up for me."

The trio gets in a car and is soon being chased by the police. Murray drives on railroad tracks, straight towards an approaching train. Veering away from the train at the last minute, Murray laughs as he reminds himself that, whatever he does, "it just doesn't matter."

Just as in "Meatballs," Murray discovers in "Groundhog Day" that the futility of life, the realization that nothing one does really matters, rather than being an excuse to quit, is an impetus to create joy even in the most absurd of situations.

I worry about what may happen in the future and I regret things I've done in the past. I worry about having enough money to pay my bills and live comfortably. When I teach or write, I worry that I'm not good enough to make a difference. I have regrets about not having been a better student in college and a better son to my deceased parents. I regret not being as loving to my wife as I aspire to be.

And then I recall these movies.

In the end, both "Meatballs" and "Groundhog Day" are odes to the joy of existence. Both movies ultimately provide mundane advice, but they do so in the most entertaining and delightful of packages: If the world gives you lemons, make lemonade. Don't just accept your fate. Embrace it. Do for others regardless of what they do for you. Above all, laugh in the face of failure and success because there's really nothing to worry about or to regret.

After all, "it just doesn't matter."