‘The Taste of Mango’ Review: A Poetic Documentary Examines the Reverberation of Abuse Over Three Generations

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As a movie buff with a penchant for introspective documentaries, I find myself deeply moved and profoundly affected by Chloe Abrahams’ “The Taste of Mango.” Having spent years immersed in the celluloid world, I can attest that this film stands out as an exceptional work of art.

In Chloe Abrahams’ film “The Taste of Mango,” three women from different generations grapple with a hidden truth – the sexual abuse by a stepfather. The movie, marking Abrahams’ debut as a feature filmmaker, blends artistic influences from her gallery video art background with impressionistic visuals, personal narratives, home movies, and more. Instead of focusing on hard facts, it chooses to emphasize emotional transparency over journalistic reporting. This unique approach makes for an uplifting, poetic portrayal of a challenging subject, highlighting resilience and healing rather than trauma. The movie has already garnered several awards and will debut in cinemas across New York and Los Angeles this week, with a scheduled broadcast on PBS’ “POV” slated for April 28th.

The title is inspired by Abraham’s realization that both her mother Rozana and grandmother Jean (also known as “Nana”) ate large quantities of that fruit while pregnant. This connection makes the director taste it whenever he thinks about them. However, one sweet detail can’t entirely overshadow a significant amount of bitter experiences in this matriarchal lineage. These stories are only partially revealed and out of sequence throughout the movie during its slow-paced, seemingly free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness narrative.

In her homeland Sri Lanka, Nana initially wed a man who cherished and safeguarded her. However, their loving union ended prematurely when he passed away at 27 years old. Subsequently, she remarried, acquiring a stepfather who turned out to be less than ideal for young Rozana. This individual, occasionally seen in old pictures or videos (he escorted her down the wedding aisle), is a topic that grandma avoids discussing despite their long-term partnership of over four decades. We learn he exhibited verbal and physical abuse, was an ineffective provider, and even served prison time, possibly due to his association with the term “pedophile,” which frequently appears in this context. The most appalling incident occurred when her stepdaughter was sexually assaulted at the age of 11. The event was suppressed because Jean feared the potential embarrassment of public knowledge about it.

Rozana’s point of view can be quite frustrating at times, and it seems that it has been even more challenging in the past. In an attempt to distance herself from a man she was angry about supporting financially for long-distance matters, Rozana moved to the U.K. while pregnant with Chloe, eventually divorcing him some years later. However, she continued to experience night terrors, sleepwalking, and other symptoms of PTSD. When Nana visited, she criticized the younger family members and avoided discussing her own cohabitation with a “monster,” let alone his harmful actions. Even during the more laid-back trip depicted here, she defended him using the blame-the-victim argument: “If a young girl is flirtatious and wants to offer something, men will take advantage at any time,” she casually remarked.

However, by this late stage in the story, all three women are moving towards open conversations they’ve needed for a significant part of their lives. (The film’s tight focus doesn’t provide an opportunity for others to speak, not even in old footage.) Rozana has desired Jeab to break free from her “self-sacrificing instinct,” leave the disliked stepfather and permanently live with her descendants in England. As the movie ends, it appears that this move is finally being executed.

Despite such heavy shared baggage, the trio is capable of a collective joie de vivre amply displayed in scenes of them horsing around in silly wigs, or singing along to the old American country and western songs (“I Never Promised You a Rose Garden,” “Stand by Your Man,” etc.) Nana inexplicably loves.

In “Taste of Mango,” we don’t delve deeply into their relationships, careers, or any other aspects outside the matriarchal trio. However, the movie manages to flow smoothly and freely within its specific themes. Abrahams employs visual abstraction, particularly frequent scenes of running water, to give a reflective, universal touch to the familial narrative. Additionally, the use of voiceover from all parties involved adds to the film’s sense of open, personal introspection.

The overall impact is both richly layered and strikingly straightforward, with its experimental elements enhancing rather than detracting from the depiction of relationships tested and ultimately fortified through immense hardship. “Mango” narrates a tale that could have been presented in various forms, yet the chosen route feels distinctive – particularly for delivering harsh realities in a manner digestible even for the most sensitive audience. It offers a glimpse into a lengthy, ominous tunnel, yet one bathed in light at its end.

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2024-12-04 16:17