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6 months ago
How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is screening in Australia and New Zealand now in these select cinema locations
Can’t make the cinema? Add How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies to your streaming watchlist here!
No, it’s not the latest extreme reality show. It’s not a new TikTok trend, and it’s not a strange seniors-only sequel to Squid Game. But, How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies IS a Thai-language feature film that’s become a local smash hit and a sensation across Southeast Asia.
Now, How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies has hit Aussie cinemas - and with its themes of terminal illness, traditional cultural caregiving roles, and the age-old debate of “who gets the inheritance”, it’s well worth a look through a social impact lens.
In a word, huge! Originally titled “Lahn Mah” (literally “Grandma’s Grandchild”), it’s already the highest-grossing Thai film of the year - a feat it cracked within just 14 days - and it’s breaking box office records all over Southeast Asia. In Singapore, Malaysia and the Philippines, How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is the highest-grossing Thai film of all time, and in Indonesia, it’s the biggest Asian-language title ever.
It’s clearly struck an emotional chord with moviegoers, especially on TikTok, where teens and 20-somethings are posting viral clips of them rushing to visit their own grandparents “before it’s too late.” Reviews are raving about the movie’s blend of humour and honesty, with one cinema chain in the Philippines even handing out tissues to weepy patrons as they left the theatre.
It’s actually the film debut of its 78-year-old star, Usha Seamkhum, who plays the feisty “Amah” (aka grandma) of the title. For Thai audiences, much more star power is thanks to Putthipong Assaratanakul, who plays her grandson. In Thailand, he’s better known as “Billkin”, and he’s a huge pop star and TV actor, with nearly two dozen TV & music awards under his belt. How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is just his second feature film acting role.
Yes, in Australia and New Zealand, the film is spoken in the Thai and Teochew Min languages, with English language subtitles on screen.
Hold up, it’s not quite there yet! With this much hype, we’re sure it’ll be out on streaming soon, but for now How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is still enjoying its huge run of success on the big screen. It’s just been released in Australia at select Event, Village and Hoyts cinemas. You can find out if the film’s screening at your local cinema using this link.
M (played by Billkin) is a uni dropout who can’t believe his eyes when his cousin gets left her grandfather’s entire home in his will - all because she cared for him on his deathbed. When M’s own grandmother is diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, he quickly decides to give this “shortcut to riches” a go himself. But he doesn’t count on his Amah’s savvy ways, her own childrens’ selfish plans, or his growing feelings of love and attachment getting in the mix.
The heart of the movie is the unlikely buddy-comedy, and growing love story, between the feisty Amah and her kinda-slackery grandson, M. Straight away we get the difference in their generational work ethic: she’s up at 5am each day to sell her congee (savoury rice porridge) at the markets; he’s dropped out of uni to become a rich & famous online gamer. Well, that’s the plan… but he only has 4 subscribers.
Soon, he’s setting the alarm to help Amah to the markets, where a fellow elderly storekeeper tells her just how lucky she is to have such a “devoted” grandson. You can almost see the Thai Baht symbols in M’s eyes. Billkin’s a winning performer, and in the early scenes he does a great job making sure we don’t despise his character. We know his visits have a massive ulterior motive – he’s only showing up to become grandma’s favourite and get her house in her will, not the most shining moral example! – but he keeps our empathy on side with small reveals that show he truly cares.
At first he cuts corners, to Amah’s horror: bodging the tea-making he offers to her Goddess; or buying her the cheap market fish (she NEVER eats beef) because the line’s too long at the good place. But soon, he lifts his game. Before long, he’s sold his PC to help her with bills, installed a camera (right next to her Goddess statue) to keep an eye on her in case she faints, and starts taking Amah to her chemo appointments – where his cousin Mui advises him, “Next time, go in and sit next to her. That's when you can really rack up your score.”
First time director Pat Boonnitipat really balances our internal compass nicely with these moments, reminding us that there’s still a plot afoot, and the closer M grows with Amah, the more tightly his guilt becomes wrapped around his initial goal. He’s annoyed when his cousin asks if he thinks of his Amah as “an asset”; he clearly has a conscience. He asks Mui if she thinks what they’re doing is wrong, but she adamantly tells him no – their grandparents’ grown-up children don’t visit them! We’re giving them happiness. “Do you know what old people want but their kids don’t give it to them?”, she asks M. “It’s simple. Time.”
It’s a thoughtful point and at first glance, at least, this seems true. Amah is happier with M around (she says “it’s fun”), although she’s no fool – she’s got a hunch why M’s been visiting. On a shoe-shopping trip, she confronts him with the question, “You’re in this to reap the rewards, aren’t you?” M is caught out and brushes it off (but not before we can tell he’s already feeling internally conflicted). “I just want to be your full time grandson,” he tells her, to which Amah replies laughing, “You’re so full of it!”
With more than 50 years between them, the film gets into another aspect of generational divide: purpose in life. Amah seems dismayed that M’s given up on university when he was such a bright young kid. When Amah realises M’s plan, she’s less offended at him taking advantage of her, than she is disappointed that he’s given up on earning his OWN success. She buys him a business shirt, reminding him how good a student he was – but M’s response is that he’s good for nothing, and can’t compete in the business world. It says a lot about the reality of Second-World economies that a “get rich quick” scheme, and not a career, might seem the only path to true security.
Amah and her family are a Sino-Thai family: Chinese descendants in Thailand, who make up the largest minority group in the country (nearly 15% of the Thai population). So it’s important to keep in mind that, as a family with Chinese heritage living in Thailand, we’re watching a minority story. That plays a big part in how family members regard things like their relative economics, their expectations of care and, yes, their inheritance.
There are lots of early references that are played for laughs: Amah grumbles when M doesn’t scatter the petals properly at her parents’ grave, and chides him when he can’t understand why it matters to her. She’s impressed when M’s cousin can speak Teochew Min with her, one of the more conservative variants of Chinese. She’s made loans to her hopeless younger son Soei, who never pays her back – which especially annoys her older son Kiang, and his aspirational wife.
It’s a setup that could make easy sitcom territory, but Boonnitipat quickly introduces harder hitting themes. For example, Amah’s doctor tells her daughter, not Amah, that she has stage 4 cancer, and less than a year to live. In Australia, it might be unthinkable that we’d keep that kind of info from our parents, but – as explored in Lulu Wang’s film The Farewell – many Asian families often hide terminal diagnoses from their elderly loved ones, out of a belief that talking openly about death can create even more emotional pain. It’s a reverse-logic kind of love. But as a younger Thai-Chinese, M doesn’t subscribe to that, and tells Amah her diagnosis. “It’s her body!” he tells his stunned mother and uncles. “She has a right to know.”
Another strong cultural theme is the long-standing gender assumptions that come with caring for a relative. Like how the labour and logistics will fall to the female child, with no expectation or allowance for any help or financial support. When Amah’s daughter (M’s mum) switches her supermarket job to nightshifts to be more available – and eventually, to take her mother into her home – Amah is cross with her for upending her life. But her daughter retorts, “Would you be happy if your sons took the time instead?!” Somehow, for the male child to stop work for her would be seen as far more shameful.
It’s one of the lovelier aspects of the film that, despite the crotchety old battler she might come across as, Amah takes a series of quiet actions that reinforce the idea of just how much parents (and mothers in particular) give up for their children over their lifetimes. Some of these are smaller plot points, and some bigger, but they weave into a tapestry that says so much about the connective tissue between families.
Like when Amah discovers her savings missing from the kitchen tin, M uses the camera he installed to discover the culprit is Soei, her “loser” youngest son. Amah doesn’t seem surprised, saying that he needs it because “he can’t look after himself.” We get the feeling it’s happened before, and she’s probably known he took it every time. In another scene, Amah’s selfish older son Kiang refuses to visit, until M shares a story: Remember how Amah NEVER eats beef? Well, it’s actually her favourite. But once, you were really sick as a kid, and Amah prayed to her Goddess, promising to never eat beef again if you got well. It’s enough to prompt a guilt-stricken son to get in the car and visit his elderly Mum.
Amah’s not the only one to make sacrifices: twice, M is offered money from his uncles to give up on his house-hustle (more than enough to buy a new gaming PC setup, or even pay a house deposit of his own). But they both came with a caveat to stop visiting, and both times M turns them down. Over the course of the year, M has truly grown to care for his Amah – he knows how she likes her buttons, how to make her laugh and yes, how to make the right tea. As M holds Amah’s hand and sings to her as she fades away, you might be looking for that staff member with the tissues as you leave the cinema too.
“The family’s Chinese heritage adds an extra dimension to the drama, inserting a barrage of regional beliefs, traditions and rituals into an already chaotic situation.”
- James Marsh, South China Morning Post
“This beautifully crafted film touches the heart and soul… Prepare to shed tears.”
- Andrew Chan, Neo Film Shop
“A deeply affecting portrait of intergenerational dynamics in Asian families today… one of the most poignant movies we've seen in a while.”
- Gabriel Chong, MovieXclusive
What’s your take - fully on board, or disagree big time? We’d love to hear it.
This is a treat that even we might otherwise have missed if it hadn’t come with such a wave of social media hype! Even then, it may be easy to dismiss as “that Thai inheritance movie.” But don’t do that as it’s a great film, and there’s universal truths tucked touchingly within How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies, no matter whether your grandmother comes from China, Thailand, Australia or the North Pole.
If you’re worried that the story might be too weepy, don’t be – Amah’s wisecracks about haunting M after she’s gone are on point, and the scene where M gives his grandmother a sponge bath (frozen with fear at what he might glimpse) is a comic delight.
Both sweet and meaningful, How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is a great option if you’re not normally in the frame of mind for a foreign film. And if you’re still lucky enough to have them, maybe this is the movie you take your grandmother to for your next visit.
How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is screening in Australia and New Zealand now in these select cinema locations
Can’t make the cinema? Add How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies to your streaming watchlist here!