“We Grown Now,” written and directed by Minhal Baig, emerges as a cinematic rarity, defying Hollywood norms by presenting African American characters as intricately nuanced and relatably ordinary individuals amidst a landscape typically dominated by violent narratives and stereotypical portrayals. In this refreshing departure, Baig crafts a compelling narrative that invites audiences into the world of two endearing ten-year-old boys, Malik (Blake Cameron James) and Eric (Gian Knight Ramirez), whose charm effortlessly guides viewers through a journey of nostalgia.
Set against the backdrop of 1992 Cabrini-Green, Baig’s film showcases the innocence of childhood friendship and the simplicity of everyday life, deftly steering clear of sensationalism. Through heartfelt storytelling and authentic performances, Baig captures the essence of youth and the universal experiences that shape us, delivering a film that resonates long after the credits roll.
Malik and Eric, best friends, live in the tower building where elevators rarely work, and it’s easy to find an abandoned apartment to hang out in. Flat on their backs, staring at stained and cracked ceilings, they dare to dream (manifest). Malik is the one who dreams the most vividly and is able to help Eric step into that world occasionally as well. He lives with his hard-working and loving mother (Jurnee Smollett), grandmother (S. Epatha Merkerson), and little sister (Madisyn Barnes). Nothing dramatic, just life, which is one of the things that makes this film so very special.
Eric lives with his older sister (Avery Holliday) and their widowed father (Lil Rel Howery) and is most likely suffering from the trauma of losing his mother, although this is never discussed. His friendship with Malik is one of the most daring and honest parts of the film and what makes “We Grown Now” so special.
It’s easy to want to follow their lives as they wander Cabrini, go to school and, on one day, ditch school to go to the Art Institute of Chicago, where they explore its paintings. When they sprint through the museum, the other patrons are frozen, and we just focus on the boys’ joy. This is just one of the many scenes of normal behavior that Baig brings to life, and it might sound simple, but it’s not at all. At one point, one of artworks catches their eye. It was painted in 1935 by Walter Ellison (“Train Station”) and shows a segregated terminal.
This is the third feature film that Baig has directed. Her first was “Hala” (2019) and is about a Pakistani American teenager trying to carve out her life between her parents’ lives and her own desires.
Because Baig approaches every single frame with heart, we are 100% invested in Malik and Eric and feel an absence, of sorts, when we are pulled away from their private world.
The craftsmanship behind the camera is top-notch with sound design that proves very impactful. Simple, but it helps give the audience a place and time.
Of course, there is drama. It’s set in Cabrini-Green, in 1992, but Baig has already draped the entire film in a layer of suspense and tension; when something BIG finally explodes, it doesn’t rip the viewer apart. Instead, it helps us understand the nature of life and how things must change in order to have true growth.
At one point, the real world does catastrophically pierce the boys’ bubble when a near-army of police descend on the complex in the wake of a shooting, ransacking homes, and turning residents into suspects.
Ten out of ten. Not a perfect film, but close enough.