THE STORY – A man quits work to care for his dying grandmother, motivated by her fortune. He schemes to win her favor before she passes.
THE CAST – Putthipong Assaratanakul & Usha Seamkhum
THE TEAM – Pat Boonnitipat (Director/Writer) & Thodsapon Thiptinnakorn (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 125 Minutes
Thai filmmaker Pat Boonnitipat’s “How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies” begins with a prayer for the future. Family matriarch Amah (Usha “Teaw” Seamkhum) stands over a burial plot as she gives honor to “the exalted one, the worthy one, the fully enlightened one.” Amah repeats this line, asking the sacred beings to bring her a similar plot when it’s her time to go. She would need a million Thai bahts for her wish to be granted, as even death is expensive. The dead also holds fortune for the living, which motivates Amah’s grandson, M (Putthipong “Billkin” Assaratanakul), to visit her more often. If he could become her number-one favorite before she dies of cancer, he would be rich in no time. While placing greed at the root of character motivations, Boonnitipat shows far more thematic interest in what money cannot buy. “How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies” easily puts him on the map of exciting filmmakers to follow.
In this fleeting existence called life, we are all at the mercy of a ticking clock. Sometimes, it takes an immeasurable loss to realize that the most valuable gift we can share is time. It’s the one thing we cannot make more of, yet so many of us consider it a transactional commodity. In a world where people carry ulterior motives and hope to profit from the seeds they sow, “How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies” is a refreshing embrace of living wholeheartedly and loving selflessly. As M and Amah spend more quality time together, they form a priceless bond. He learns to connect with his surroundings, and she finds a path towards trusting hers. Boonnitipat’s patient filmmaking savors the moments these characters share, as though holding onto them for dear life before the inevitable future arrives. While the journey’s end might be evident in the title, the film is full of heartwarming, surprising discoveries along the way.
Set in Bangkok, Thailand, the story follows M (Assaratanakul) and Amah (Seamkhum) on intersecting paths of awakening. We first meet M in moments of disconnection and impatience. He blocks out his surroundings with headphones, an accessory of the future he envisions for himself. M is a university dropout who wants to become a video game caster under the guise that he will get rich quickly and rent his own house. When the reality of low finances and living with his mother Sew (Sarinrat “Jear” Thomas) falls short of his aspirations, M knows he needs a scheme. He catches wind of one through his cousin Mui (Tontawan Tantivejakul), a granddaughter who inherits her grandfather’s house after having been his full-time caregiver.
Motivated by the potential of fortune, M prioritizes time for his grandmother. He starts visiting her regularly, which she questions immediately (“You never came to visit, why bother now?”), and eventually, he moves in with her. His exposure to Amah’s daily life bridges the line between individualism and universality. They are connected in ways he could never imagine, which puts the film on an incredibly bittersweet course of action. The more time spent with Amah, the richer her interior world becomes for her family and the viewer. While, at times, the film leans into overly sentimental territory at times to get the message across, nostalgia still feels appropriate to the telling of this story. It’s a story that calls for moments of wistful reflection.
An insightful screenplay, co-written by Boonnitipat and Thodsapon Thiptinnakorn, gives Amah resonating character development. The film prioritizes Amah’s perspective, from her social life and daily routines to her fears of mortality and the understandable wariness of her family’s true intentions. Also, her character’s loneliness emerges through heartbreaking lines, for instance, about not having anyone with whom to share leftover food. Amah’s sharp observations of her surroundings add meaningful layers to simple everyday moments whose weight her family doesn’t fully understand.
Those who have lived with a loved one’s illness understand the emotional toll of caregiving. This type of work changes outlooks on how we spend our time and brings out several family dynamics, which the film explores in great detail. From competing best interests at heart to expectations placed on the women of the family, Boonnitipat devotes time to grounding the story in realistic scenarios. For example, when Amah’s children take her to the hospital after a fall, eldest son Kiang (Sanya Kunakorn) and youngest son Soei (Pongsatorn Jongwilas) leave the middle daughter Sew (Thomas) to stay behind. The siblings constantly shift the goalposts of what’s best for Amah and who’s most capable of the decision-making. While each has their shortcomings, they show up in their own flawed ways, which feels achingly true to life.
The tremendous cast brings lived-in qualities to their characters. Putthipong “Billkin” Assaratanakul has such a natural screen presence; it’s truly impressive to learn he’s playing his first lead film role here. He carries the story on his shoulders, making the character’s narrative arc believable. Given how his performance rings so true, Assaratanakul becomes a major key to why the film hits emotionally. While initially motivated by selfish financial aspirations, his changes in behavior speak to the power of spending time with a generation often neglected in today’s youth-driven culture. M and Amah’s dynamic gives us a heartwarming exploration of a multi-generational connection and calls into question what we can inherit from the elderly. M makes millions of memories that he’ll be able to carry with him forever and, in turn, gives Amah more sincerity in his time.
Usha “Teaw” Seamkhum embodies the character of Amah with compassion and a fabulous sense of humor, delivering some of the most biting lines. In her final year, she, too, has an awakening in her relationships with time and family. When her children and grandson come to visit, she questions why, because she doesn’t need them. But her journey comes with the realization that sometimes it’s okay to ask for help when needed and to accept help when offered. The nuances of Seamkhum’s performance build to some of the film’s most devastating moments, one of which sees Amah call out for her parents while going through the effects of chemotherapy. Time slows down in such moments when left with the raw emotions of facing mortality.
Gentle pacing mirrors the gradual passing of time in this story. The film sits with characters in impactful moments of stillness, meeting them with patience and care. The beauty is in the details, from the actors’ expressions and body language to the Thai landscapes and home interiors. The cabinets of Amah’s home are filled with objects of a full life. The leisurely walks to the market are populated with the people of Amah’s routine, such as another older woman going through cancer, who remarks on how lucky Amah is to have a grandson. The time spent on these interactions gives the film a terrific sense of place and speaks to how effectively Boonnitipat’s direction holds space for characters to simply be.
Grounded by sincere and composed filmmaking, “How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies” avoids grand gestures to show how time itself is a gift. The power of this story creeps up on you in the way that nostalgia does; all it can take is a picture, a piece of music, or a meal, to name a few, to transport your mind into memories. “How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies” has the makings of an instant comfort film, made of heartfelt moments that build to a rewarding conclusion.
