‘How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies’: A Lesson in Love and Loss

some notes! wrote this as a writing piece, so it will sound different from my usual informal reviews

Don’t let its wry title fool you–truth be told, How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024) is a deeply sentimental movie that’s sure to pull at your heartstrings. Pat Boonnitipat’s film debut, which has already become one of the highest-grossing domestic Thai films, is a charming tale of family, kinship and second chances. It’s no wonder that this movie has achieved immense success on social media and in cinemas region-wide, given the universal catharsis and charm it offers.

In this film, we follow the lives of a multigenerational Thai-Chinese family through the eyes of a teenage grandson named M (played by Thai celebrity Putthipong Assaratanakul, or Billkin). He seeks to curry favour with his terminally ill grandmother, affectionately known as Amah, in hopes of receiving a generous inheritance when she (inevitably) passes. As such, he decides to move in with Amah to be her full-time caregiver.

It’s challenging at first–she’s sceptical of his intentions, and the generational gap causes friction between the two. M can’t wake up early enough to sell congee with her, and she can’t stand his habit of microwaving water to make tea.

But in the end, blood is blood. At some point, getting on Amah’s good side turns from a superficial goal (sometimes a headache, even), to a labour of love. They share meaningful times together, and Amah opens up to him more. Through shared conversations over peeled fruits, M learns about Amah’s dedication to her family–she planted a pomegranate tree when M was born, and even gave up beef for years to pray to Guanyin for her eldest son, Kiang’s, health.

Yet, despite this devotion, visits from her children are few and far between. Kiang has money to pay for Amah’s chemotherapy, but doesn’t bother to visit her. M’s mother, Chew, makes time for Amah, but they hardly get along. As for her youngest son, Soei, Amah says it’s better when he doesn’t visit–it means he’s doing well.

Amah insists she isn’t lonely, yet she finds herself alone the day after Chinese New Year, with a fridge full of leftovers and no one to share them with. Things don’t change much even after she’s diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

For the rest of this movie, we follow this family’s journey in navigating their way around the challenges life continues to throw at them. There isn’t an idealistic ending–in fact, far from it. Instead, Boonnitipat focuses on how life threatening illnesses bring about challenges that can break relationships, but more importantly, also remake them.

This film is a tearjerker not because it’s melodramatic, but because of its sheer realism–Boonnitipat sure knows how to hit close to home. It makes you consider your own family dynamics, especially in a hectic world where we find ourselves increasingly distanced from our cherished relationships. Boonitipat explores the different perspectives involved with a healthy dose of empathy–he’s sure to flesh out the different characters, but doesn’t excuse their actions.

And the cinematography, while orthodox, accentuated the lighthearted and nostalgic lustre of the film. Simply put, it feels like home. Plastic-wrapped pomegranates on trees, old-fashioned floral chic, and the familiar clutter of your grandparents’ house. It makes you yearn for days long gone, when life seemed simpler, happier.

The visuals are deeply reminiscent of times from the past, but the story nonetheless assures us of the opportunities the present holds too. M shows us that it’s never too late to rekindle a relationship, and remake all the memories we hold so dearly to us. And for those of us whose loved ones have passed on, the film similarly reminds us of their newfound peace in a better place.

That being said, the film’s merits extend beyond its sentimentality. For one, Boonnitipat has a talent for pacing and comedic timing. It’s rare to find a movie where the entire cinema can go from laughing to sniffling in a matter of seconds, and then back to laughing again. Yet, How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024) did it all, and more. For a film with such heavy themes, I was impressed at how it struck a delicate balance between injecting lighthearted jokes and respecting the plot. The dialogue is also beautifully written, and I especially appreciated the circular story elements.

At its heart, How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024) is more than just a run-of-the-mill story about “loving your grandma more”. It fleshes out perspectives of the different archetypal family members, even going on to explore traditional gender roles and the cycle of generational trauma. “Sons get assets, daughters get cancer.”

In a society where almost 1 in 5 citizens are aged 65 and above, it’s apparent that we need more conversations surrounding the impacts of an ageing population. It’s with this in mind that How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024) tackles this discussion elegantly, by reframing such universal issues in a way that provides refreshing yet harshly real perspectives. The sincerity of Boonnitipat’s message shines through to a Singaporean audience despite the difference in setting, and does well to inspire genuine introspection and contemplation. Thinking back on this film days later, I still tear up.

If there’s something this film has taught me, it’s that we’ll never have enough time with the ones we love. Still though, perhaps it’s enough to learn how to make their congee. Perhaps it’s enough to become each other’s number ones. Perhaps it’s enough to help them up the stairs, one more step than the last.

- j