‘Mango’ (2025) Netflix Movie Review - A Sun-Kissed Story With a Few Shadows

I walked into Mango (2025) with low expectations—another streaming-romantic drama where you know how the pieces will settle, but I came away genuinely charmed in many ways, even if I wasn’t entirely surprised by its path. Lærke (Josephine Park) is a competent, driven hotelier whose personal life has frayed at the edges: she’s asked to bring her daughter Agnes (Josephine Højbjerg) on what is ostensibly a “working vacation” to southern Spain, because the company wants to pitch a luxury resort on orchard land owned by Alex (Dar Salim), a man with a deep attachment to his mango farm. Agnes, sore from not getting into her chosen architecture program and feeling neglected by her mother, is cynical and distant. The setting quickly becomes more than just a backdrop: the orchard pulses with history, grief (Alex lost his wife, and the farm suffered a fire), community, and the tension between commerce and legacy.

From the start, the film gets major points for visual appeal. The Andalusian countryside—Axarquía and the foothills around Málaga is bathed in golden light and ripe fruit-laden trees, capturing a mood of escape and possibility. The cinematography doesn’t just show us the location; it invites us to breathe it in, and it pays off in how the orchard becomes a kind of character itself, someone who watches everything unfold. The production design feels sincere rather than glossy, and the organic textures of the farm, the stone houses, the dusty roads lend a lived-in feel that helps ground what might otherwise just be a romance movie.

Performance-wise, Park brings a fine balance to Lærke: you believe she’s capable at work yet emotionally wary, someone who has built walls around her personal life and now is confronted with how those walls have impacted her daughter. Salim is quietly effective as Alex; there’s a sad reserve to him that allows his attachment to the land to feel real, rather than simply symbolic. And Højbjerg does a good job of registering Agnes’s dissatisfaction and weariness, and later a tentative transformation when she meets local Paula (Sara Jiménez). The character arcs may not surprise, but the actors lift the material.

The writing leans into familiar beats: ambitious career woman, estranged daughter, local rugged man, cultural clash, property development vs. tradition. But in its best moments, the film uses those beats to probe emotional truths rather than just tick off pre-set rom-drama boxes. For instance, Agnes’s resentment isn’t just teenage rebellion but rooted in real absence and expectations; Lærke’s realization that her job success has cost her presence and that her daughter’s cry for connection was louder than any architecture rejection—is handled with more care than you’d expect. The mother-daughter dynamic offers one of the more satisfying arches: they begin distant, then discomforted, then gradually open up and listen. That part of the narrative felt more compelling than the romantic thread, actually.

It’s also worth noting the film’s pacing and tone: it doesn’t rush everything at full sprint, the middle section gives space to explore place and character, and the mood shifts between gentle drama and light romantic comedy are handled with enough ease that the tone remains warm. I found myself rooting for Lærke to grow, for Agnes to find her voice, and for the chance that Alex’s stubbornness might soften. The way the film embraces the small pleasures of place, conversation, community, and the everyday makes it often pleasantly unpretentious.

At the same time, it’s fair to say the movie doesn’t aim for boldness. The realignment of characters, the “of-course-we’ll­fall­in­love­and­fix­things” structure is predictable. Some transitions, especially in the third act, feel accelerated, the stakes drop when they shouldn’t, and the community detail around the farm suffers a bit from being too neat. The third act feels rushed, and the resolution is slightly shallow. For all its charm, the screenplay tends to fold into the easiest solutions—emotional breakthroughs, practical plans, reconciliations that feel earned but also inevitable. The originality is modest: you won’t be surprised by the major plot turns, and occasionally the dialogue falls into comfortable clichés (“we’ve lost touch”, “let’s rebuild”), rather than wrenching out new forms of expression.

Another minor quibble: the chemistry between Lærke and Alex is pleasant but not quite electric enough to carry the film, yes, but missing a little unpredictability. When the two characters shift from confrontation to collaboration, you believe the change is sincere, but because the foundation was so familiar, the shift isn’t entirely thrilling. Also, Agnes’s friendship with Paula and her budding architectural idea feel like interesting threads that might have been developed further; they hint at a side story of the younger generation that could have been richer but remains somewhat under-explored.

Despite those criticisms, for someone like me who appreciates character-driven writing, scenic location work, and the gentle unfolding of emotional healing rather than high drama, Mango delivers more often than it disappoints. The direction by Mehdi Avaz shows a steady hand: the visual rhythm aligns with the emotional tempo, and the film doesn’t feel overwrought or manipulative. The decision to keep things grounded — no over-the-top plot twists, no excessive melodrama—works in its favor, though it also means the film might not stand out dramatically in the crowded genre of romantic dramas.

In conclusion, I found Mango to be a quietly satisfying watch. It offers enough sweetness and emotional resonance to feel good, backed by credible performances and lovely scenery. If you’re looking for something fresh and daring, you might leave wishing for a bit more narrative daring or sharper edge. But if you just want a warm, sunlit film about reconnecting—with place, with family, with oneself—this will carry you there. It doesn’t reinvent anything, but it uses its familiar frame to tell its story with heart and scenery, and that’s more than enough on a lazy evening when you want to be gently moved.

Final Score- [7/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times