Relationships are complicated. Those between family members are even more so. This is deeply the case for a family of five living in El Comandante, a small neighborhood in Puerto Rico in 2019. “Don’t Eat the Mangos” by playwright Ricardo Pérez González and directed by David Mendizábal follows the family’s relationships with and sacrifices for one another as secrets are uncovered at last.
“Don’t Eat the Mangos” runs with a comedic-tragedy tone infused in every scene. The show easily establishes itself in the span of just a few minutes. Ismelda (Jessica Pimentel) enters, singing to herself as she starts on household chores. Her younger sisters, Yinoelle (Yesenia Iglesias) and Wicha (Evelyn Howe), soon follow, with the three settling at the kitchen table to eat galletas. Then, the ringing of a bell begins.
The sisters quickly exchange quips in Spanish, pushing the others to respond to the bell that their ailing Papi (José Ramón Rosario) uses to summon help. Eventually, Ismelda takes the chore, groaning as she exits. The sisters begin discussing their obligations to their parents, as their father is practically bedridden after a stroke and their Mami (Susanna Guzmán) is fighting cancer for a second time. Although their caregiver roles place a strain on the sisters’ relationships, they clearly remain close with one another.
Pimentel, Iglesias and Howe play wonderfully off each other as sisters. Despite all sisters being adults — two with children of their own — they quickly fall into sisterly fights and bantering. However, despite their differences, their connection also allows for the sisters to confide secrets in one another, holding on tightly to their relationship when they cannot do the same with their parents.
“Don’t Eat the Mangos” is clearly not afraid to undercover the dark underbelly of familial secrets. Each sister, as well as both parents, harbor their own secrets — and they all come out in the 105-minute runtime. In a particularly hysterical first scene, Yino and Wicha reveal to Ismelda that their Uncle Erick, whom Ismelda wishes had married their mother, is gay. While Ismelda’s reaction is tickling, the later scolding from her mother alludes to tension between the two. This tension stretches across the stage and space, allowing the audience a glimpse into a complex family that is also broken up with moments of comedy.
A large highlight of “Don’t Eat the Mangos” is how it uses its space to the maximum, managing to fit a rotating stage and a large, gnarly mango tree onto the stage while still leaving room for the characters to float around. Tanya Orellana’s set hones in on the familial home featuring four distinct spaces: the kitchen, the carport, Papi’s room and the guest room. The home stands strong, with its cement foundation protecting the family from the outside storms while rotting mango fruit lie in the front yard. The house itself is inviting, full of galletas, blankets and warm tones, although rain leaks and cracks run through the foundation.
Pimentel’s Ismelda is the glue that holds this production together. As the eldest daughter, most of the responsibility falls to her to care for her parents and younger sisters. Not only is she the primary caregiver to her father, but she also cares immensely for her sisters, often in ways that go unnoticed. Pimentel plays this role to a tee, leading the cast through comedy and tragedy without bowing down. Some may see Ismelda as the poisoned mango fallen from the tree, but in truth, she is the resilient tree that stands above all else, unable to be brought down by hurricane or disaster.
By contrast, Wicha, the youngest sister, offers most of the comedic relief. A university professor and avid activist, Wicha is headstrong in her beliefs and pushes her sisters to break out of the roles expected of them. Regardless, as the youngest, there’s much Wicha was never privy to growing up. When family secrets finally begin to be revealed, Wicha takes them the hardest, dissolving into tears as the veil has been lifted off her childhood. Howe plays Wicha with extreme care, moving from bantering youngest to a distraught sister seeing her family in a new light.
While quite jarring, the transition from comedy to tragedy between the sisters and their reactions work remarkably well. González’s words, matched with Mendizábal’s direction, create a jarring yet believable dynamic between the family members. Heinous and gut-clenching family secrets are revealed simply, yet it is clear that old and new wounds are opened with the truth. In one heartbreaking scene, Mami demands to hear the truth from Wicha’s lips, ending with the two in tears and bruises. Mami moves between an unassuming mom to a fearsome mother and a devastated wife in just a few minutes.
The most horrifying secret lies within the show’s name — don’t eat the mangos. Mangos, like family, are nourished by their foundation. However, when poison enters the ground, the fruit that sprouts from it will carry its poison in its DNA until it is wiped out. It is not until the family wipes out their own poison that they can move forward in peace, an agonizing yet relatable message to convey.
Family is complicated. There is no easy way to navigate a strained and horrifying situation with your closest family members. Some choose to keep secrets, either for power or out of care. Some choose to sacrifice, out of duty or love. Some choose to hurt and abuse. With such complex relationships, it’s a struggle to understand which choice is best for your family. Ismelda, Yino, Wicha, Mami and Papi all make their choices — they sacrifice a piece of themselves in the family, and they all harbor their own secrets, some to protect each other. Yet, in the end, they all find their own liberation.
“Don’t Eat the Mangos” is playing now until April 27 at the Calderwood Pavilion.
