We Grown Now is quiet, normal, and powerful

MPAA Rating: PG
Reel Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

We Grown Now opens with two kids, Malik (Blake James) and Eric (Gain Ramirez) struggling to take an old mattress down several flights of stairs. While pivoting and grunting, they shoot the breeze about school, sports, and their favorite television shows. They drag the ratty old thing across an inner-city basketball court with weeds growing through cracks before throwing it in a heap of similar specimens. Along with their neighbors, they play a game called Jumpin, which is exactly what it sounds like. They run as fast as they can, then jump into the pile in as stylish a way as possible.

It’s a simple and profound beginning to a nearly perfect story: seemingly trapped in a cycle of crime and poverty these young men use what little they must create a life of fun, creativity, and meaning. By and large, they succeed.

Malik is an intelligent, capable 12-year-old boy living with his sister, mom, and grandmother in the Cabrini-Green housing project on the North Side of Chicago. By the 1990s, more than 15,000 people lived in these government-subsidized apartments, which had become notorious for gangs, crime, drugs, and poverty. The film follows him as he goes about being a normal kid: playing with his best friend Eric, doing his homework, shooting hoops, and getting into trouble.

Through his eyes, we also see some of the wider world, including the results of absentee fatherhood, his mother’s financial difficulties, and gang activity in his building. Despite all this, Malik carves out a niche in this landscape, which makes his mother’s decision about a possible move more difficult.

There’s an obvious temptation in an expose of this sort to overdramatize the socio-economic problems Malik faces. But the film wisely avoids these pitfalls. His family is poor but not destitute. They might have boxed mac-and-cheese with broccoli for dinner, but never go hungry. They occasionally witness violence but don’t live in paranoid fear of being killed every day. The police are aggressive and sometimes engage in unconstitutional behavior, but they are not cartoonishly racist or murderous; they are even sympathetic at times.

Like the great Italian neo-realist directors, Minhal Baig (who was born and raised in Chicago) allows her characters to live directly and honestly, creating empathy in the audience without emotional manipulation. Yet these circumstances don’t define the characters.

While poverty often feels like a burden, it can bring unexpected silver linings. In a life without many material crutches, both families rely on their faith. There are frequent mentions of God, prayer, and morality. Malik wonders about the complexities of spacetime and freely talks with Eric about the afterlife. None of this is presented as either absurd or self-righteous. Normal, healthy people contemplate spirituality.

When Malik’s classmate dies from a gang member’s stray bullet, he attends the funeral where a Baptist preacher gives a beautiful sermon not on racial politics but the assurance of Christ’s grace amid horrible tragedy. My personal favorite moment occurs when someone challenges Malik’s mother for celebrating his father’s birthday, even though he died five years ago. “I want my children to know their grandfather,” she says with a smile. The gates of heaven are not iron but pearly.

What ultimately elevates We Grown Now from a good film about urban struggle to a masterpiece are the performances by James and Ramirez. They are some of the best I’ve ever seen from child actors. When Eric learns Malik is moving, he pretends to be nonchalant but starts a fight with him that causes a serious injury. After Malik recovers, Eric says a prayer with his dad, asking God to bless Malik even if he goes.

In the final scene, they make their peace, and as Malik walks away, Eric sheds a single tear. The pain, loss, and joy of all their years of friendship is contained in these quiet, anguished expressions.

We Grown Now belongs to a unique class of cinema that is, I think, difficult for the average moviegoer. These films aren’t glamorous and thrilling but quietly depict and firmly share essential truths.

Like the apartment’s saintly namesake, God works wonders through the courage and sacrifice of ordinary humans who, despite economic hardship and dangerous situations, do not become despondent or indignant but respond with love and courage. Theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.