Mighty Aphrodite (1995)

Mighty Aphrodite is one of Woody Allen’s brightest, breeziest comedies, a movie that somehow marries Manhattan neurosis to the playful wink of a Greek chorus without feeling like a gimmick. The real magic is Mira Sorvino, who turns what could’ve been a punchline into a genuinely winsome, warm-hearted force of nature, making the film feel sunny even when it’s poking at human vanity and self-delusion. It’s witty and agile—full of quick turns, romantic misfires, and that lightly theatrical, handsomely staged charm—so it glides along on laughter rather than heavy drama. Fair warning: it’s candid about sex, uses strong language, and Allen’s particular comic rhythm isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re on the fence, Sorvino’s performance alone is reason to step in.

Mighty Aphrodite is trying to be a breezy, myth-tinged romantic comedy about obsession, morality, and the messy ways people “improve” each other, with a Greek chorus winking at the whole thing. The problem is it often feels slight and self-satisfied: the jokes can play like clever sketches stitched together, and the film’s view of working-class characters may strike you as patronizing rather than satirical. If you’re not already on board with Woody Allen’s chatty, neurotic persona and a storyline that treats sex work as a comedic catalyst, this will likely irritate more than it amuses. Mira Sorvino is the clear redeeming factor—warm, funny, and human enough to give the movie a pulse even when the script feels lightweight.