With due apologies to Karan Johar, the tagline for Pat Boonnitipat’s How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies could well read, “It is all about learning to love your family.” Boonnitipat’s directorial debut feature has been smashing box office records for a Thai film in Southeast Asia and has been comfortably lodged on the top ten charts since it dropped mid-September on Netflix Singapore. It has been minting millions in the region by making millions cry to the extent that reels and videos of its sobbing audiences have been going viral on social media.
It’s not tough to fathom the bittersweet film’s universal appeal. The pain of the loss of a loved one is an experience every human is bound to face at some point in time. Squaring up to mortality is inevitable for everyone. How to… is unique in how it turns death into a vital mode of creating a dialogue between generations, in the process reaching out to viewers across all age groups.
M (Putthipong “Billkin” Assaratanakul), a university dropout, trying to make a mark in the world of gaming, decides to become the primary caregiver for his ailing grandmother Mengju (Usha “Taew” Seamkhum), down with the last stage of stomach cancer, in the hope of inheriting her estate. Mengju’s sons Kiang and Soei also have an eye on the fortune. It’s only her daughter and M’s mother Sew (Sarinrat “Jear” Thomas) who is not covetous and believes in the idea of giving rather than receiving.
Boonnitipat’s narrative moves a full circle, beginning with Mengju’s family observing tomb-sweeping day rituals in the cemetery in remembrance of their ancestors. It’s here that she expresses her desire to be buried in a big plot of land of her own, when her time comes; something that will cost millions. Will she have her wish fulfilled? The film ends with her final journey to her eternal home. In between lies the coming-of-age story of her grandson M, who learns the value of people and relationships over wealth through his close association with her in her last days.
It’s wonderful to see the relationship between M and Mengju grow gradually from initial scepticism of the demanding grandma and the impatience of the grandson to mutual respect and admiration. M learns the value of her selfless ways as opposed to the materialism of her self-centric sons. It’s as much about her deliverance from pain and ties that bind as his redemption by understanding the ways of the world.
The film casts a critical look at gender roles and expectations perpetuated within families—the hypocrisy of having high expectations of duty, responsibility and commitment from mothers and daughters as opposed to the free reign given to the fathers and sons. A scenario that holds true of conservative bastions across South Asia as well. However, the film makes the feminist point without raving or ranting about it. While being an emotional ride, it doesn’t feel overly manipulative.
A lovely sense of restraint and tenderness runs through it. On the flip side, there’s little about the film’s plot that’s not predictable. You can see the twists and turns coming from afar. The characters—other than M, Mengju and Sew—are painted with broad brushstrokes—the good-for-nothing sons, the greedy cousins et al. However, the grandmother, her daughter and the grandson and their relationship with each other are all suitably nuanced.
A lot of that stems from the heartfelt performances of the three primary players. Billkin, Taew, and Jear are so well-tuned with each other that it seems like they truly are related to each other. While Billkin is a popular actor, it’s Taew who is surprisingly sublime for a non-actor in her first-ever film. A debut in her late 70s. While playing an ageing woman, she underscores the fact that age is, after all, just a number.