Some films change your life; others just remind you to call your grandparents, if you’re fortunate enough to still have them around. The Thai box office hit How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies, which has already made nearly $80 million globally prior to its UK release, is a movie with modest emotional aims that it wears on its sleeve. The feature directorial debut of Pat Boonnitipat, best known for creating the TV spin-off of another recent Thai box office hit, Bad Genius, offers nothing in the way of surprise – when I get round to outlining the plot in the next paragraph, you’ll be able to deduce exactly where this story is headed. But shocks are not why people flock to tear-jerking family dramas like this, and even as it outstayed its welcome, I wasn’t immune to it. I might complain about the formulaic storytelling below, but I won’t pretend I didn’t feel something in my eye by the end – storytelling formulas exist for a reason, after all.

Newcomer Putthipong Assaratanakul stars as M, a cash-strapped college dropout back living with his mum, his only source of income being whatever petty cash he can get from video game live streams. After his grandfather dies, his cousin Mui (Tontawan Tantivejakul) unexpectedly leaves the majority of his estate, thanks to her carefully thought-out scheme to become his carer later in life. M’s grandmother Mengju (Usha Seamkhum) has recently been diagnosed with stomach cancer, and sensing an opportunity for financial security, he takes it upon himself to be her sole caregiver, despite only ever being a fleeting presence in her life. Whilst she doesn’t immediately see through these plans – for plot purposes which don’t quite make sense, her diagnosis is known by the family but has been kept a secret from her – she is skeptical by her close, but spiritually distant, relatives taking a sudden interest. The odds are stacked against M’s plan succeeding, but wouldn’t you know it, they eventually develop the bond they haven’t had since he was young, and he realises there are more important things than money.

Despite being the broadest of crowd-pleasers, Boonnitipat and co-writer Thodsapon Thiptinnakorn are unafraid to make their lead character – and by extension, the majority of his equally money-hungry family – unlikable without overly moralising his actions. This is particularly impressive considering the story is viewed through his eyes, with only a few scenes where M isn’t present; they never try to rationalise his dubious rationale for reigniting a bond with a dying grandparent, appearing self-aware that he’s exploiting her even if the story itself doesn’t want to complicate matters by addressing this directly. A stronger film would do a better job of untangling the moral knottiness of this, rather than letting the character organically have a wake-up call at the eleventh hour, but that would be ill-suited to the gentle tone of this film. Its narrative shortcomings are always on display, but the character dynamics are richly drawn enough for the family story to ultimately have an impact nonetheless.

Boonnitipat’s flimsy storytelling is evidenced elsewhere by the perplexing decision to withhold Mengju’s diagnosis from her for the first act, divorced entirely from a reality of doctor-patient confidentiality. Perhaps this is so Mengju wouldn’t question her grandson’s motivation, allowing for a smoother, more believable start to their relationship within the film. But it’s the moment that rings the most hollow within a story that otherwise earns enough goodwill to shrug off the leaps of logic required to connect each emotional breakthrough. However, the co-writer/director is aiming this story at as broad an audience as possible, assuming that the cumulative impact will resonate enough with viewers that they won’t care to interrogate its plot too closely. And in a story which is otherwise directed fairly anonymously, this approach does allow him to use more ambitious grace notes, such as using trains passing by in the background as a signifier of a flashback and a return to the present day, with no need to rely on a “several years earlier” title card.

It is heartening that a movie as small in scale as it is big in heart can still be a major success, and the heartwarming final moments reveal exactly why audiences would breathlessly recommend to their friends after seeing it. I do think it suffers for taking narrative shortcuts to find that resonance wherever possible, but I can’t pretend that it wasn’t effective by the end.

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Written by Alistair Ryder

Featured image courtesy of Netflix

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