Writer and Director: Chloe Abrahams
A film of rich, meditative quality, The Taste of Mango explores the intergenerational dynamic within director Chloe Abrahams’ family. The physical divide of her relatives, split between Sri Lanka and the UK, is more than geographical. Abrahams investigates what lies beneath the surface, and finds uneasy truths.
The documentary focuses on her Nana (Jean Davidson) and her Mum (Rozana Ross). As Abrahams’ camera records the upside of family life – birthdays and engagements – there is an unspoken tension. The elegant, glamorous Rozana is pensive when caught in unguarded moments. Abrahams talks to her about her relationship with her parents. Her father died when she was just 8 months old, and her mother, Jean, remarried. The marriage has not been a happy one. Abrahams overhears telephone conversations between Rozana and Nana. There is a sense of weariness: these feel like old arguments. When Rozana shows family pictures, photos of Jean are torn down the middle: the stepfather is literally erased. Rozana talks about abuse; being severely beaten by this man. Nana brushes aside his prison sentence for raping another woman. Ignored or sidelined, history continues to press in.
Where this documentary could just act as a confessional, Abrahams’ skill as a film-maker is in her ability to see her subject from different perspectives. Pulling back from making obvious points, The Taste of Mango reveals the ongoing impact of abuse. Rozana is still experiencing post-traumatic symptoms, even decades on. She tells her daughter about her recurring nightmares and sleepwalking. Nana is less forthcoming, but when Abrahams factors in cultural pressures, the reasons for leaving an abusive environment (or not) becomes more complicated.
What comes across clearly is Abrahams’ capacity for empathy. Rozana’s love of country music is threaded throughout: Tammy Wynette’s Stand By Your Man takes on more colour here. We are discouraged from drawing simplistic conclusions: Abrahams applies these editorial touches deliberately, but lightly. In a pivotal scene, she reads aloud a letter sent by Nana, explaining her decision to stay with her abusive partner. Nana’s articulation, summing up a life of “lost feelings”, is truly heartbreaking.
The Taste of Mango does not shy away from the devastation of sexual and physical abuse: Abrahams frankly reveals information about herself and her family. The ‘home movie’ effect of Abrahams’ documentary – a visible camera in a mirror, jumpy, faded footage of Sri Lanka – serves to underline the severity of what the filmmaker is uncovering. It is anything but cosy. Abrahams’ technique of filming Rozana completing mundane tasks – colouring her hair, pruning her roses – is jarringly intercut with the darkest revelations, voiced separately, off camera. Abrahams tries to get Nana to talk more openly about her life, their lives, and the frustration between grandmother and granddaughter is palpable. What builds is a picture of secrets and lies.
The film is not a comfortable watch, but Abrahams succeeds in communicating the psychological effects of abuse. The Taste of Mango not only examines the personal cost, but what happens when we choose to look the other way.
The Taste of Mango is in UK and Irish Cinemas from 29 November.
The Reviews Hub Score:
Psychological effects
