J Paul Johnson
Any of us who survived or witnessed firsthand the transition from middle to high school for young girls knows it’s not easy. And probably never has been so, what with navigating puberty, friendship, cliques, enemies, bullies, school, clubs, activities, and identity. But in the 21st century, that transition is made all the more difficult by social media and the many pressures it manifests. Not only are young girls faced with more consequential decisions than ever before, but social media tempts and distorts at every turn. The growing pains a young girl faces today are more numerous and more challenging than ever before.
Not, though, that you’d necessarily know that from movies, at least in the U.S., where typically films about female adolescence, if and when they get made, are scarcely promoted and rarely seen. The preponderance of males as directors and writers is one reason why: only very, very recently has the percentage of Hollywood films directed by women risen above 10 percent and it’s never been as high as a meager 20 percent. And even when films about young girls do get made, they’re rarely taken all that seriously. It’s been that way for decades: even great films like Nancy Savoca’s Dogfight get mislabeled as comedy if they center their narratives on young girls’ coming of age.
Growing Pains, an independent feature directed by Catherine Argyrople that premiered at the 2024 Boston International Film Festival, intends to disrupt those patterns. It’s a tale of two young girls looking forward to their first year of high school, where their friendship, their identities, and their beliefs will be challenged. Zoe (Molly Morneweck) is a taller, bigger-of-build cancer survivor and hopes of making her school’s crew team. Nat (Deanna Tarraza) has her hands full with a commitment to the family business, a sandwich shop that demands long hours and little time for a social life. As Zoe and Nat navigate the summer before freshman year, both are pulled in different directions that challenge their close friendship.
For Zoe, her rowing aspirations prove a challenge. She needs to challenge herself physically to make the team, but her newfound commitment to doing so is compromised when she turns to weight loss pills—they’re a threat to her already-tenuous health. She’s also ambivalent about her body image, especially a stomach scar from a childhood surgery. While Zoe has a loving and attentive mother (Deb LeClair), she’s not willing to confide in her about the pressures she’s facing. And those include more than her physical wellness. A new sophomore friend introduces her to the high school party scene and its easy access to alcohol. And there, a new boy’s attention pressures Zoe into sexual activities—handjobs and sexting, to start— that she’s clearly not ready for.
All of Zoe’s problems seem to her, at least, exacerbated by the fact that her friend Nat has been too busy to share much time with her. Nat finds her summer dominated by work: her father, especially, seems to demand she put in long hours with little time off. Only once does he relent to let Nat attend a concert with her new co-worker, Lexie (Maia Isabel Frias), on whom Nat’s developed a serious crush. As Nat’s feelings for Lexie escalate, so too do her tensions with her dad when he sees her and Lexie kissing and reacts with a homophobic panic. On top of all that, Nat’s beloved abuela is diagnosed with a terminal illness.
In the midst of all that tumult, Nat needs a friend too, but Zoe is unavailable with her own problems, and while Nat and Lexie fall deeper in love, Nat and Zoe drift further and further apart. It’s a summer that proves a true test of their long friendship. And that’s the type of female friendship films too infrequently present onscreen. Growing Pains‘ script, from co-writer Mariana Fabian and director Argyrople, is a direct response to their never having seen stories like their own depicted onscreen, accurately if at all. That’s a key part of why Growing Pains‘ production is not only written and directed by women, but created by them both behind and in front of the camera, from the producers to the camera, sound, and editing teams all the way to the production assistants.
Theirs is a worthy endeavor, and Growing Pains makes for the kind of film—an earnest attempt to portray a youthful female friendship—too rarely seen. The kinds of pressures young girls face make their friendships especially precious: the comfort of close friendships are one of the only ways they can navigate the turbulence of adolescence. And all that Nat and Zoe face during the narrative? It’s exactly the kinds of challenges and crises facing girls everyday.
Growing Pains suffers a bit from its own inexperience in some areas. The two leads Morneweck and Terraza deliver convincing performances, especially as the stakes rise in the film’s second and third acts. Some of the supporting cast are far less convincing, especially when scenes end awkwardly before transitioning to the next. The only two male characters with significant lines to deliver are wretched: one a pompous teenage lecher, the other a homophobic parent who treats his daughter like an indentured servant. Neither seems convincing even if the types exist.
The film’s frankness—it’s not rated, but it includes explicit language and references to sexual activity, if nothing visually depicted—suggests it’s aiming towards some recently-made great films about young women’s coming of age. Eighth Grade and Lady Bird come to mind, though Growing Pains has a way to go to reach their great scripts, confident direction, and visual panache. Its direction and performances tread closer to ABC’s Afterschool Specials than those contemporary classics. Even so, Growing Pains‘ ambitions are honorable and its script relevant, and let’s hope all involved can look forward to a near future where opportunities to tell women’s—and, in particular, young women’s like these—stories with greater frequency, success, and reach.
