Directed By Women: We Grown Now (2023)

They say it takes a village to raise a child, but it takes that and more to get them the hell out of poverty.

Much like “The Florida Project,” there’s a certain lightness in the fact that we are seeing an impoverished setting through the eyes of a child, even if things are a lot less grim in Minhal Baig’s “We Grown Now.” Nostalgia can be a convenient cover, and unlike the transient nature of the budget hotel in “The Florida Project,” there’s a retro setting of 1992, and the fact that the community which very much existed in the Cabrini-Green public housing complex no longer does.

But that kind of purging is unimaginable as the film begins, especially to the ten-year-old besties Malik (Blake Cameron James) and Eric (Gian Knight Ramirez) as they simply live their lives and find the fun and joy that kids tend to do, at least before the pubescent angst kicks in.

Malik is the one who quickly emerges as the film’s star and central character, and it’s pretty clear he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with one way or another. He’s being raised in a household of women, which consists of his grandmother Anita (S. Epatha Merkerson), older sister Amber, and his mother Dolores (Jurnee Smollett). Malik moves among them with ease, effortlessly charming them all into fits of laughter, a sign of potential danger to come if there ever was one IMO.

This trio is far more likely to influence Malik for the better the way they also effortlessly impart their history and the ability to see beyond their immediate surroundings. Much like Detroit, Cabrini-Green has long been a symbol of decline, a setting for much of the ills plaguing American society. You know the drill: drugs, poverty, the breaking down of the family, all segregated in a fashion which would allow whiteness to dismiss a place and the people in it.

Minhal Baig, who also wrote the film, likewise hails from Chicago, having grown up in Rogers Park to Pakistani parents, a far cry from the setting she tenderly chronicles here. For “We Grown Now,” Baig conducted multiple interviews with former residents of Cabrini-Green’s high-rise apartments, and she clearly got a great deal of personal connection out of it in the way the film warmly depicts Malik’s residence as more than a living space.

It’s clearly a home, with pictures on the wall, the beauty of the mundane which makes use of lighting and a haunting score in a fashion will inevitably draw comparisons to “Moonlight.” “We Grown Now” certainly has its own link to the American South, with Anita’s stories of life in Tupelo Mississippi, which has a kind of living talisman in the sewing machine she brought north with her, as well as the belief she imparts to her family about seeing the poetry in everything.

So it feels like a violation when a tragedy rocks the neighborhood and the powers that be decide to do all the wrong things about it, bringing in the police to invade the neighborhood and homes to such a degree that they feel like an occupying force. Malik and Eric can scream that they exist at the top of their lungs, they can play hooky and experience more of what Chicago has to offer, such as the Art Institute, but Malik’s mother Dolores also has the clear-eyed vision of a woman who can see some of what her neighborhood is going to come to. And the family has saved up just enough to allow her to take an opportunity to better their lives by her taking a job and new home in the suburbs.

If “We Grown Now” was from her perspective, this would likely feel more akin to a gentle rebirth, but Malik mainly feels the pain of the impending separation from his friend Eric, whose lack of maternal presence in his own home where he lives with his sister and single father Jason (Lil Rel Howery) feels like being stripped of his ability to dream. We mourn with them too, as Malik and his family leave a place that always was far more than its worst aspects.

What is home, or any place really, but the people? Even if Malik and his family made the most of an opportunity just in time, “We Grown Now” allows us to see the bittersweet nature of making a new home and better life, especially when it means leaving behind a community that seemed as if nothing on Earth could match it for its resiliency. Until of course, forces beyond their control did.

Directed By Women: T Blockers (2023)

By Andrea Thompson

Yes, the prodigal column has returned, just in time for spooky season, and my favorite holiday no less. Choosing a film to focus on was something of a dilemma, at least until I came across Alice Maio Mackay’s “T Blockers” while I was writing up a festival preview for the Chicago LGBTQ+ International Film Festival Reeling. Then it became something of an easy choice.

Mackay was all of 17 when she made “T Blockers,” already has a respectable chunk of IMDB credits as well as a host of other accomplishments to her name, all of which shout upcoming filmmaker. Mackay is also trans, and the slim 74 minute runtime contains a multitude of complications her surrogate heroine Sophie (Lauren Last), also a trans filmmaker, must wrestle with once she discovers an ancient parasitic worm is preying on the bigots in her small Australian town.

Some of “T Blockers” is about exactly what you’d expect, and a fair amount of it is the rage of it all. There’s the viciousness of the anti-LGBTQ+ politicians, the minefield of attempting to find love in the midst of what seems like a neverending oppression in their daily lives, the crappy jobs the characters have to sustain themselves with as they struggle with every step in fulfilling their artistic ambitions, and the rising hordes of fascists who are rallying against any attempt they make at proclaiming their humanity.

No, the kids are not alright, but they are an extremely tight-knit group in the way people under siege tend to be. But bring on the camp, because Sophie and her bff and roommate Spencer (Lewi Dawson) refuse to be all gloom and doom. The gross-out humor isn’t only reserved for the worms which find plenty of willing hosts, but some of the less than healthy coping methods Spencer and Sophie utilize, which include drugs and vomit. Learn your limits kids, but in the meantime it fits well with the movie’s punk sensibilities, with the more obvious influence John Waters getting himself a name drop later.

These kids also have a kind of clear-eyed, lived wisdom it often takes their more privileged brethren years to acquire. They wait for no one’s approval and make no apologies for immediately fighting back once the possessed gather and go on the prowl, but they have no illusions that this will make their problems vanish, or even their lives necessarily easier. As Sophie tearfully acknowledges after facing a devastating personal loss, the bigots they’re really fighting can win even when they lose, and the battle will have to be fought again and again.

“T Blockers” isn’t merely a salute to Mackay’s B-movie sensibilities and their accompanying idols, it’s also a heartfelt tribute to queer filmmakers of the past, some of whom ultimately lost the battle with their own demons, but managed to create something for future generations to stand on. The movie’s framing device is a film made by a fellow trans filmmaker in the ‘90s who later committed suicide, but which nevertheless acts as both warning and guide so Sophie and her friends can put out the fire this time. In some cases by burning it all down, but I digress.

It’s so damn fun that the movie’s real flaw is all that more irritating (and somewhat spoilery), namely that the whiteness of it all somewhat bogs things down. The first victim of the parasites is Thai Hoa Steven Nguyen, and the other good guy casualty is another actor of color, Toshiro Glenn. In any other movie this would absolutely reek of hypocrisy, yet Mackay shows such promise, namely by making the most of the screen time both of them get. And Glenn’s is infused with a special tenderness due to his budding romance with Sophie, which finally gives her a taste of romantic love, untainted by fetishization.

So “T Blockers” is a success at getting its audience to consider the very questions it brings up. Namely, whether we really know an oppressive regime when we see one, and what exactly makes a monster.

52 Films By Women: Compensation (1999)

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By Andrea Thompson

“Compensation” is the kind of boldly independent experimental film that makes me rage and moan at the long and productive career of an artist that wasn’t. You’d think I would somehow find better ways at coping with this, but one of the most bittersweet experiences I have as a writer is to watch and appreciate a beautiful film like this...and to know that the director wasn’t given much opportunity afterwards.

It’s not that director Zeinabu irene Davis hasn’t done other things, both before and since. But they’ve been few and far between, and she has not been granted the creative opportunities she clearly earned. Seriously, how many more times must I mourn? 

And this one feels more personal than most. The 1999 black and white film “Compensation” isn’t just a love letter to love, it’s an ode to Chicago, the city I reside in and one Davis clearly has a great affection for. It’s not just that the entire plot takes place there, it occurs during two different time periods, at the beginning and end of the twentieth century.

Both are seen through the eyes of two very different couples, and primarily follow two Black Deaf women, Malindy Brown and Malaika Brown, who find love with a hearing man, Arthur Jones and Nico Jones, respectively. Played by the same set of actors, Michelle A. Banks and John Earl Jelks, both find their romances in danger thanks to the diseases of the day, tuberculosis and AIDS.

For this unique love story, Davis doesn’t just make fun, creative considerations for the Deaf community with her use of Silent Era title cards and vintage photos, both of ordinary people and activists, she portrays her non-hearing characters with a sensitivity rarely seen. We see this community through the eyes of the people within it, not by how they’re perceived by those who can hear, which, as “Compensation” reminds us, isn’t always positive. If we may dislike that some of Malaika’s friends disapprove of her dating a hearing person, we mostly understand why they do, even as Nico treats her with loving kindness and respect.

There’s less understanding and time spent in the past, which fills a bit like filler as time goes on, since the objections more revolve around Arthur, a recent arrival from the South as part of the Great Migration, being beneath the more educated Malindy. So it’s hardly surprising that Malaika and Nico steal the show while giving us a fun view of Chicago and Black culture with humor and a great sense of the city’s rhythms, while also flipping the switch on a whole lot of romantic tropes.

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Contrary to the usual way of suffering, saintly women catching TB, it’s the hardworking Arthur in the past who catches the very non-romanticized disease, while, unlike the most cinematic portrayals of AIDS, it’s Malaika who is HIV positive. It’s rare enough to see films address women living with HIV, but it’s even rarer to see a Black woman do so, let alone a Black Deaf woman who is seen as a complex character rather than a suffering one-dimensional caricature who’s in need of saving. 

That these women can’t always surmount the obstacles to their love is heartbreaking, but the most remarkable thing about “Compensation” is how love is always worth the risk, even if it may include a devastating fallout. 

Compensation is streaming on The Criterion Channel.

Film Girl Film Festival Partners With Veteran Org

By Andrea Thompson

This Memorial Day, we honor the men and women who have given their lives for their country, on what is actually the 150th anniversary of the holiday. But in the midst of the grills, cookouts, and general festivities, it's important for all of us to remember that the battle is not over for those who return home. Many of them have to fight on a whole new front and process the trauma they have experienced.

I was reminded of this myself when I was in Chicago. Like many in the area, I decided to spend part of my Memorial Day weekend out on the lake front, and I happened to run into an event by Chicago Veterans. Vets and volunteers were walking to raise awareness about a pressing social problem: veteran suicide. According to the group, every day 20 veterans take their own lives. I was struck not only by the numbers, but by the fact that most people seem to have no idea that this is happening.

In order to help raise awareness, the Film Girl Film Festival is partnering with a local chapter of Dryhootch, an organization which provides support to struggling veterans. Dryhootch was founded in 2008 by Vietnam veteran Bob Curry, and aims to provide a safe space in a coffee house where veterans and their families can gather in a drug and alcohol free environment. Dryhootch regularly hosts events, and provides mentoring and needed support services to ease the transition to civilian life.

To do its part in support of this much-needed work, the Film Girl Film Festival will have its first women-only coworking event at the Dryhootch location at 1030 E. Brady Street. The coworking event aims to bring a group of women together to work, keep each other on track, and talk about their projects. No time and date has been set at this point, but further details will be provided.

More information about the Wisconsin chapter of Dryhootch can be found at dryhootchwi.org.

A Great Night Supporting Female and non-Binary Comic Book Artists

Going out and supporting the art women make is a great feeling. But when that feeling is accompanied by snacks, drinks, and pizza? Well, that's even better.

Such was the case at Women's Comics Night, which is a monthly hangout at Challengers Comics in Bucktown in Chicago. I'd missed the last meeting, and I'm so glad I made it to this one. I arrived a little late, and I was pleased to see the room off to the side for the panel, comprised solely of female and non-binary (well, one) artists was already underway. And packed. Luckily, I managed to find a seat, and so I kicked off a very fun evening.

Since I've been so focused on movies, it was also an opportunity to catch up on what was happening in the comics world. I knew I was behind, but I had no idea that there was now a Rogue & Gambit comic, particularly sad as they're one of my favorite couples ever. I was also unaware of just how much indigenous comics there were, as well as a comics convention devoted solely to indigenous artists. Also, that women were drawing comics about sex education, all the stuff they were doing that just involved a kind of expansion from superhero comics driven by a need to see their stories, or just different kinds of stories out there while doing what they loved. And some of them weren't even artists. They were just nerds who came because they were curious and wanted to support female artists too. Afterwards, there was plenty of chatting with the panelists and pretty much the entire audience that stayed to mingle.

Nights like this always mean so much to me because they completely disprove so many of the negative attitudes that I was fed growing up. The ones about how women only compete with each other and are never supportive. About how few women there are compared to men making and doing things. Events like this make me wish so badly for a time machine so I could go back and tell the younger me that not only is this wrong, that I'd be helping to disprove these things myself when I was older.

If you're in the Chicago area, check it out! Turns out this place has a ton of monthly events, and they really emphasize spreading the word about the great work women are doing. Check out the site here, and Facebook page here. Until next time!

On International Women's Day, A Few Thoughts On How Far I've Come, And How Far I Still Have To Go

It's International Women's Day, so it's a good time to reflect on how the Film Girl Film Festival has grown over the years. Granted, this is only my third year, but still.

First off? Let's just say ignorance is bliss. Generally, I'm not a huge fan of not knowing what's coming, but I'm kind of glad I didn't know just how much I was going to go through that first time. I had almost no guidance. I started the film festival myself, with no organizational backing. To comprehend just what I'd gotten myself into (and the times I wondered that was more than I could count), consider I had no experience in putting on such a massive event like this, and I also had no staff. Sure, I had plenty of people who were willing to help, especially once they saw I was serious. But mostly, it was just me writing press releases and keeping the media informed, watching and choosing the films, determining the schedule, getting sponsors, raising money, building and updating the website, finding the location, arranging the opening night party festivities, coordinating volunteers, running the festival equipment during the fest itself, and finally, setting up and taking everything down.

Needless to say, by the time it was all over, I needed a day off to lie around on the couch, which I happily took. Actually, more than one. It wasn't too hard, since the day job I had, or rather, stayed stuck in for years let me go about a month or two before the fest. Why? Because I'd gotten a 94.91 instead of a 95 on an assessment after being there for...well, years. I truly wish I could say I'd left rather than getting fired, like so many others had. But when I walked out, I felt freed rather than bitter. It may not have been the best timing, but it felt like I was finally making the necessary changes.

I hope all this makes it easier to understand just why I wasn't sure I wanted to put on the festival again. Just the thought of going through everything again exhausted me. But then the 2016 election happened. And that decided things. Sure, the fest was a relatively small thing, but I felt like I needed to do it again. This would be my own way of saying that not only would I not shut up, I'd do my part to make sure other women were heard too. Once I committed to it, things happened quickly. I found that new problems quickly sprang up to replace the old, but for once I was happy to have them. When your issues are due to growth, that's a lot easier to handle.

The big thing was I met the two women who would work with me. One was Crystal Schreiner, who would help me build the Film Girl Film Festival into not just an event, but a brand, with a new site and logo. The other was Kenlei, who would help me fundraise and find new sponsors. Interestingly enough, I met them both at the coffee shop I would go to, the Pleasant Kafe. It's since changed owners, but thankfully it's still there. Local coffee shops really are the best for all purposes, including networking.

But the biggest change came from being awarded a grant from the Women's Fund of Greater Milwaukee. Hell, I didn't even apply for it. Money changes things, and having spare cash that I could use to spend on the fest changed everything. Suddenly, my profile was bigger, people were taking me more seriously, and I learned even more about how to make best use of funds. (Like paying Crystal and Kenlei, although that was more of a given.) And it had results. For my second year, I learned about how to build a brand, give the festival a higher profile, and get even more people to attend.

So for 2018, there was never even a question of whether I would do it again. For the third year, I changed the name to the Film Girl Film Festival, and decided to try and make it an official nonprofit. I set up a GoFundMe, opened the fest for submissions, and made the move to Chicago (don't worry, fest is still staying in Milwaukee!) for more professional opportunities. To get a sense of just how much things have progressed in just a few years, here's the essay I wrote after my first year, with my old logo: https://www.theyoungfolks.com/review/85918/six-things-i-learned-from-starting-a-film-festival/. But if you wanna skip the read, here's the logo from my first year:

For the second year, here's my new logo:

And the current one:

So what comes next? I'm still in uncharted territory, but I'm happy to say at the very least, a really great event celebrating women in film.

The Film Girl Film Festival will occur from Oct. 12-14 at the Underground Collaborative in Milwaukee, WI. To donate to the fest, click here. To submit, click here.