Shocking Family Secrets Unveiled in Chicago’s Projects in ‘We Grown Now’ – Must Read!

In the touching indie drama “We Grown Now”, penned and directed by Minhal Baig, we encounter a closely-bound family from Chicago, living modestly and nurturing cautious dreams. They find their sense of belonging tested in the midst of the dilapidated high-rises of the Cabrini-Green housing project in 1992. Despite the apparent decline of the complex, it could be assumed that the narrative would be a gloomy contemplation of poverty. However, Baig, a native of the Windy City, presents a staunchly poetic, sometimes even warm, depiction of lives that dare to dream amidst increasing hopelessness.

We enter the story through the friendship of Malik (Blake Cameron James) and Eric (Gian Knight Ramirez), spirited school-age pals. Their bond is fueled by a shared love for adventure (even during school hours), a dedication to perfecting their playground dive onto mattresses scavenged from vacant units, and a continuous stream of humor, friendly jibes, and analysis of the Bulls. The film distinctively eschews the common use of period-specific music cues, instead favoring Jay Wadley’s austere string score as a backdrop.

Malik, who sports a captivating smile, is also a fervent daydreamer. He aims to show Eric, who often tends towards cynicism even with the encouragement of his dedicated single father (Lil Rel Howery) towards academic pursuits, how the blotches on a moldy, crumbling ceiling can form a starry constellation. With the aid of Pat Scola’s heartwarming, childlike cinematography and the young actors’ subtly confident performances, we too can see this transformation.

The neglect of the institution is not concealed. It’s simply that human connections take precedence. In the small, homely apartment, Malik and his younger sister receive relentless love, encouragement, and life lessons from their industrious mother Dolores (Jurnee Smollett) and ever-busy grandmother Anita (a supremely maternal S. Epatha Merkerson). Anita’s elegant window curtains, made when she first relocated to Cabrini-Green from an unwelcoming Mississippi years ago, are a symbol of dignified beauty.

However, even this closely-knit Black family’s carefully nurtured haven cannot escape the escalating danger in the neighborhood and the overbearing measures of the city authorities. The death of a seven-year-old boy in a shooting on his way to school (a reference to the real-life incident involving Dantrell Davis in 1992 that shocked the city), leads to the introduction of mandatory ID cards for residents, followed by degrading police raids. This all seems like an undeserved penalty for living in a problematic area during Mayor Richard Daley’s term.

A crucial sequence in Baig’s blend of youthful vitality and realism begins with the boys playing hooky to embark on an unforgettable, joy-filled excursion to the city’s Art Institute. They are awestruck by Walter Ellison’s bustling 1935 painting “Train Station”, which contrasts white vacationers on one platform and Black travelers starting anew on another. The thrill of the day is short-lived, however, as Malik comes home to find his mother terrified, her tearful, furious outburst indicating that her growing anxiety and her son’s insatiable thirst for freedom might soon clash. (Smollett’s portrayal of the draining exhaustion of a single mother is commendable.)

Later, when a practical solution to the family’s discomfort emerges, the film’s themes of safety and movement, although not always subtle, reach a level of resonance. We witness the harsh realities of Grandma Anita’s Great Migration finally making sense to a mother and son who have only ever known one home. For Malik, it’s a home strengthened by a friendship he can’t imagine giving up.

Nevertheless, the harsh reality hovering over this bittersweet story, a product of Baig’s extensive research, is that Cabrini-Green, with its last building torn down in 2011, now exists only as a memory of community. Once a symbol of civic progress, it housed residents who made it their home for as long as they were able. With its heartfelt vision, “We Grown Now” stands as a loving tribute to them.