We Grown Now Review: Finding Beauty in Difficult Places

We step into a world of two young friends facing challenges beyond their years. The year is 1992 and the place is Cabrini-Green, a notorious public housing project on Chicago’s north side. Here two boys, Malik and Eric, have formed an unbreakable bond while navigating life’s hardships. Though just children, they’re surrounded by poverty, violence and other bitter realities of the community they call home.

Despite the daily struggles, there are glimpses of joy as Malik and Eric lean on one another. Through playful adventures and profound talks, they seek an escape from troubles no child should bear. We also meet their families, good people working to stay afloat amid societal failings. This is the vibrant yet fraught setting where director Minhal Baig casts her sensitive lens. With delicacy and care, she explores the innocence of childhood, strength of friendship, and resiliency of a community in a film that sensitively spotlights America’s ongoing flaws.

The Bond of Brothers

At the heart of We Grown Now are Malik and Eric, two young friends navigating life in Cabrini-Green. Malik, played with wisdom beyond his years by Blake Cameron James, sees the world through a hopeful lens despite hardships. He finds magic in everyday moments and dreams of traveling the wide world. Gian Knight Ramirez portrays Eric, more grounded but fiercely loyal to his outgoing “brother” Malik.

The boys spend summers jumping from mattress towers, escaping into games. School provides a break from responsibilities at home. Both live with single mothers – Jurnee Smollett powerfully plays Malik’s mom Dolores, striving to give her family what they need despite challenges. Lil Rel Howery also shines as Eric’s dad Jason, caring but struggling with his own grief.

Dark clouds soon loom however. A police raid rattling the community with unchecked violence. And tragedy strikes when a classmate is killed, shattering the boys’ innocence. Each processes this differently – Eric withdraws while Malik urges him to keep living and dreaming.

A potential move also looms over Malik’s home when Dolores’ job promotion requires relocation. The boys rally against leaving their tight-knit community and each other after so much loss. In a moving climax, they climb a water tower screaming “I exist!” declaring their presence in a world trying to overlook them.

Through it all, Malik and Eric’s friendship provides an anchor, even as growing up forces them to confront hard truths about the world outside their insular community. James and Ramirez bring layers of emotion to every scene that will touch any heart.

A Director’s Deft Touch

One cannot discuss We Grown Now without applauding director Minhal Baig’s graceful style. She approaches complex themes with great empathy and care. Rather than heavy-handed drama, Baig opts to immerse us fully in the young characters’ world.

We feel the texture of their lives through meticulous use of location. Cabrini-Green comes to vivid life – its cramped hallways, small patches of grass, ubiquitous mattress playground. But Baig finds beauty amongst the hardship, filling frames with warm sunlight and lively community. Patrick Scola’s cinematography captures these tactile details with natural warmth.

Baig also understands the power of stillness. She lets moments breathe, simply observing Malik and Eric’s daily rhythms. From playing together to sharing meals with their families, her limited yet pointed shots establish an intimacy. We see how the boys take refuge in friendship, bridging the challenges each faces at home.

Even emotional scenes avoid melodrama. A police raid is all the more unsettling for its sudden, chaotic arrival rather than conspicuous buildup. And when tragedy strikes, Baig honors the characters’ resilience over victimhood.

Her direction stays locked in the children’s perspective. Shots incorporate their level or use playground equipment framing. This lends an authentic lens to their hardening worldview. Jay Wadley’s nostalgic score also elevates mood, whether buoying youthful spirit or weeping at its challenges.

Through deft techniques, Baig brings an insightful period drama to life. Her gentle hand dignifies personal stories against systemic injustice, crafting a moving portrait of community from intimate details.

The People Who Make a Place

Baig’s film has so much to say about the strong bonds formed within challenging environments. At its core lies Cabrini-Green, a place nearly as vital as the boys at the center of the story. Through Baig’s lens, we see what makes a community so much more than buildings – it’s the people who support each other despite hardships.

Eric and Malik find respite in their friendship, relying on shared experiences in a place dealing with deep-rooted issues. Cabrini-Green’s mostly black residents faced racism and poverty, despite seeking better lives after leaving the south. The housing project fell into disrepair as society failed those living there.

Yet even amid struggles, the people gave Cabrini-Green heart. Families showed great resilience, linking generations as grandparents imparted wisdom. Children still played, crafting joy from small pleasures available. Baig honours this spirit triumphing over bleak circumstances.

But adolescence brings changes no child can ignore. When violence strikes near, shattering innocence, the boys start seeing barriers that box them in. Neighborhood raids make home feel unsafe. Soon they must cope with losing not just their friend, but the untouched years all youth should know.

We see their forced transition reflected in the film’s title – no longer are they just children. Their community also faced decrepit conditions no place should. In portraying the full humanity of lives facing deep challenges, Baig makes a powerful statement about people deserving better from the world around them. Ultimately it’s a moving tribute to resilience of both children and the neighbourhood sustaining them.

Finding the Human Story

We Grown Now undoubtedly succeeds in its aims of touching our emotions. Baig crafts rich characters in Malik and Eric that we genuinely care for. Their young performances drive the film with true heart. Yet at times the narrative feels slight, relying on repeated motifs that don’t fully flesh ideas.

Baig clearly wished to honor Black lives too often overlooked. Her perspective as an outsider to Cabrini-Green comes through, as certain insights feel surface-level. At the same time, her outsider gaze brings creative angles appreciating community spirit amid adversity. Where the director shines is finding poetry in everyday beats and infusing tender care into each frame.

It’s understandable Baig wanted to explore issues her subjects faced through a child’s point of view. But in privileging emotion over hard analysis at times, the film risks seeming naively inspirational. Deeper looks at structural racism and disinvestment could have further empowered the story. As is, certain social truths feel reduced to dialogue crib notes.

On the other hand, Baig excels at atmosphere, setting a mournful yet celebratory mood. We feel the joy and fear of childhood within a place pulling against its people. Her direction keeps an assured hand on sensitive matters, avoiding pitfalls of either doom or glorification. And in performances like Lil Rel Howery’s caring father, small moments breathe full lives between the lines.

We Grown Now beautifully captures the human need to find purpose even in adversity. But to fully bring its setting and themes to light, deeper research engaging more community perspectives may have strengthened Baig’s analysis. As is, the film gets partially to its worthy goals of honoring resilience and sharing light where there was shadow. With some fine-tuning, its moving elements could have been elevated further.

Contextual Companions

We Grown Now takes place in the same Cabrini-Green location featured in Candyman, known mostly for its run-down state by the 90s.

Yet Baig’s film presents a richer picture of life there. While Candyman highlighted crime and danger, We Grown Now shows childhood pleasures amid hardship. Documentaries like 70 Acres in Chicago provide factual history, but Baig’s focus on personal storiesImmerses us deeper.

Her work depicts Cabrini-Green as more than just a troubled place, but a community with resilient people creating meaning from what little they had. Baig both honors and expands perceptions of this iconic Chicago setting.

The Quiet Power of Human Stories

Minhal Baig’s film We Grown Now tells the story of two boys coming of age in Cabrini-Green in the early 1990s. Though set against the backdrop of a troubled time and place, the focus remains on Malik and Eric, their friendship, and the small moments that make up their childhood.

Baig brings a gentle touch, observing the boys’ world with care and attention to detail. James and Ramirez are excellent in the leading roles, their natural chemistry and charm drawing the viewer fully into their lives. Beyond the entertainment of following these characters, the film offers thoughtful insight.

It addresses the all-too-common way societal issues can force maturity upon children too soon. Yet it does not linger in misery, instead finding beauty in the resilience of community and youthful spirit. Scenes of joy, imagination, and family bonds balance those of hardship. Through it all, the human experience shines through in its complexity.

We come to understand Cabrini-Green not as a one-dimensional “dangerous place,” but as a home with a rich history and caring people striving to live full lives within difficult circumstances. Their reality, as shown, resonates with deeper universal truths about the power of both adversity and love to shape human lives.

Baig directs with subtlety and heart. Not relying on flashy techniques or bold statements, she creates an intimate portrait to linger with the viewer. For those who appreciate films that showcase the quiet strength of humanity through fully drawn, real characters – even in merely a glimpse of lives unlike their own – We Grown Now offers a grounded story told with sincerity and artistry. It remains a work well worth discovering.