Three generations of women confront the elephant in their room — stepfather sexual abuse — in Chloe Abrahams’ “A Taste of Mango.” The director’s debut feature film reflects her background in the art of video gallery as she blends impressionistic imagery, elements of memoir, home movies, and other factors into a documentary that prioritizes emotional clarity over reportage. It is an extraordinarily emphatic, poetic treatment of a difficult subject that emphasizes resilience and healing over trauma. After picking up some festival awards, it will open in theaters in New York and Los Angeles this week, which will air on PBS, scheduled for April 28.
The title comes from Abrahams’ realization that her mother Rosanna and grandmother Jean, also known as “Nana,” ate large amounts of that fruit during pregnancy — so the director “tasted” it when thinking about them. But one pretty detail cannot hide a fair amount of bitter experience in this matrilineal line. These backstories only appear in fragmented, non-chronological form over the course of the film’s short but slow, almost stream-of-consciousness feel.
In her native Sri Lanka, Nana married for the first time to “the only man who loved and protected her.” But this love match ended tragically when he died at the age of 27. In the end, she married again, and Rosanna gave birth to her stepfather…unfortunately. Occasionally, this person is glimpsed in old photos or videos (he duly walked her down the wedding aisle), a topic Granny is reluctant to discuss, even though he remains his partner four decades later. We conclude that he was verbally and physically violent, and useless as a breadwinner for the family. He even spent time in prison, for reasons perhaps related to the term “pedophilia,” which is used here more than once. Even more horrific was that his stepdaughter was raped when she was 11 years old. The incident was covered up, because Jan was afraid of public “shame” if people knew what had happened had happened.
Indeed, her point of view can be maddening at times – and it has clearly been more so in the past. Rosanna must have partly escaped this man (whom she was angry about partly supporting her long-term finances), and moved to the UK when she was pregnant with Chloe, whose father she divorced a few years later. But she still suffers from night terrors, sleepwalking, and other signs of PTSD. When Nana visits, she lashes out at younger family members, while dodging the topic of her continued residence with the “beast,” not to mention his traumatic actions. Even during the more relaxed final outing that takes up a lot of screen time here, she excuses him with classic victim-blaming logic: “If it’s a fun little girl and she wants to give something, guys will take it anytime,” she shrugs.
However, at this late stage, all three women are moving toward the kinds of frank discussion they have needed for most of their lives. (The film’s narrow focus smartly doesn’t allow anyone else to express themselves, even in archival clips.) Rosanna of Gibb has long wanted to abandon her “instinct for sacrifice”, leave her hated stepfather and join her lineage forever in England. At the film’s conclusion, it seems that this leap has finally been achieved.
Despite this heavy shared baggage, the trio is able to have a communal enjoyment of life that is clearly on display in their scenes of them walking around in silly wigs, or singing along to old American country and western songs (“I Never Promised You a Rose Garden,” “Whoa Besides your man,” etc.) Nana inexplicably loves.
We don’t get any insight into their relationships, careers, or anything else outside of this maternal triangle. But “Taste of Mango” feels smooth and free within its chosen thematic boundaries. Abrahams uses visual abstraction – particularly recurring scenes of running water – to add a contemplative and universal dimension to the content of family autobiography. The deployment of voiceover commentary by all parties involved also adds to the film’s sense of accessible personal exploration.
The overall effect is at once densely structured and engagingly direct, its experimental aspects not only serving to more clearly communicate connections that have been tested but also strengthened through great adversity. “Mango” tells a story that could have been told in many different ways. However, the chosen path feels unique, not least because it conveys some terrible truths in ways acceptable to even the most fickle viewer. It is a peek into a long, dark tunnel that is nonetheless flooded with light at the end.