Relatable Realities: The Timeless Appeal of "How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies"

By Sammi Li

How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024) has quickly become Thailand’s most successful film across Southeast Asia, resonating deeply with audiences in Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and beyond. This authentic, heartwarming tale dives into the dynamics of a Thai-Chinese family, centring on the relationship between A-mah (played by Usa Semkhum) and her grandson M (played by Billkin). When M, who was once more interested in video games than family matters, learns that his beloved grandma has cancer, he decides to live with her—not out of affection, but out of hope of securing her inheritance. However, as they bond over daily vicissitudes, M discovers his family’s shifting attitudes towards its members and begins to understand the true value of family, which lies beyond mere wealth. The film’s portrayal of familial themes has struck a chord, especially among the Asian community, many of whom report shedding tears over its poignant moments, as seen in the countless TikTok reactions. Meanwhile at SM cinema in the Philippines, staff have even been handing out tissues outside the theatre. This is a remarkable feat for Pat Boonnitipat, a first-time director who didn’t anticipate such immense success. But what makes this film so appealing for international audiences? 

Part of the film’s appeal comes from viewers seeing their own familial heritage reflected in its story. Boonnitipat set out to create a film that is “as real as possible,” and realistic and relatable characters are precisely what draws audiences in, as they allow us to emotionally connect with characters and their experiences onscreen, evoking nostalgia and familiarity. For example, for Asian audiences, the film’s naturalistic portrayal of Thai-Chinese culture resonates strongly, thanks to the shared heritage of its Thai-Chinese director and scriptwriter, Thodsapon Thiptinnakorn. From the use of the Teochew dialect to traditional folk songs, to the carefully arranged decorations in A-mah’s home, every detail speaks to the customs familiar to viewers from those backgrounds. The scenes of tomb-sweeping rituals completed during the Qingming Festival, for instance, strike a chord as they capture both the respect and the reluctance that can coexist within family dynamics: while A-mah and her children graciously honour their ancestors, M begrudgingly participates, scattering flowers without care. This cultural specificity not only makes the film feel real, but also fosters a profound connection with viewers who recognize their own family dynamics mirrored in these scenes.

Another compelling element is the film’s portrayal of love expression within Chinese families, which is often communicated through action rather than words. In the film, A-mah shows affection through offering family heirlooms, while her children show their love by providing financial support to their elders. The film doesn't prescribe a “correct” way to show love; instead, it captures the varied expressions of affection that can unfold within the family.

Sanya Kunakorn, who played the eldest son of Amah, reflected on this cultural nuance, noting how the lack of verbal expressions of love in the film felt true to his experience. He observed that, although his character does not explicitly express love, the realization towards A-mah's deteriorating health evokes a deep, unspoken grief. As he put it, love among Chinese families often isn’t overtly displayed, but “that doesn’t mean they love someone less”. This echoes many Asian viewers’ experiences, who recognize that love, even if not always spoken aloud, can be profoundly felt.

The onscreen relationship between M and A-mah has also captivated watchers. Behind-the-scenes videos of the film show how the bond between Billkin and Semkhum developed naturally from their very first screen test. According to Boonnitipat, "the chemistry was already there," which laid a strong foundation for their shared scenes. Their lively, playful interactions — both on and off set — translated into candid and unscripted moments. This mutual rapport led to improvised reactions and exchanges that brought organicity to their interactions, whether they are playfully arguing about climbing up the temple stairs A-mah wishes to visit, or simply enjoying a game of cards. This warmth and spontaneity between the actors lend a tangible depth to the relationship, making M and A-mah’s bond feel relatable and heartfelt.

This feat is even more impressive considering that A-mah’s role marks Semkhum’s silver screen debut. Despite her inexperience, Semkhum’s performance is lively and vivid, evoking many viewers’ memories of their own grandmothers. Boonnitipat shared that working with her presented challenges, particularly during simple scenes where her lack of filmmaking experience showed. Yet, when it came to the emotionally charged moments, she delivered effortlessly, often nailing them in a single take. This was due to her deep understanding and natural resonance with the character of A-mah.

As for Billkin, despite his prior experience in both films and TV shows, he found a unique connection to M’s character, partly because he shares a close bond with his own grandmother. Described by the Boonnitipat as “sensitive,” Billkin brought a personal depth to his role, with Boonnitipat even rewriting parts of the script to match his real-life personality. This commitment from both Bilkin and Semkhum created a natural and moving grandmother-and-grandson portrayal that exudes authenticity and relatability.

Boonnitipat, perhaps unsurprisingly, draws heavily from his own familial experiences when crafting the film. In an interview, he shared that he sees himself in M’s character, having lived with his grandmother during his youth but later moving out and seeing her less frequently as his work life became more demanding. To reconnect with his adolescent memories and better understand M’s perspective, Boonnitipat even moved back in with his grandmother during the film’s development. During this time, he revisited the cozy, often forgotten moments of family intimacy, similar to M listening to A-mah recounting fond childhood memories of them sharing a bed with his grandparents in the film. However, the experience also revealed unexpected layers of family dynamics for M, as he observes his mother and her siblings taking turns caring for his grandmother while being preoccupied with work or video games. He notices how, despite his grandmother eagerly anticipating their weekly family lunches, her children sometimes grow distant, often skipping these gatherings for work or other responsibilities. This blend of affection and detachment within the family, where traditions are cherished but not always maintained, informed the film’s truthful portrayal of the complexities of navigating intergenerational relationships.

This sense of alienation despite living under the same roof with extended family again—especially after years of staying in smaller, nuclear family units—is likely familiar to many Chinese viewers. Often, they live with immediate family members or alone, reuniting with the larger family only for festivals and special occasions. Boonnitipat, as he shared, aimed to convey the nostalgia and sense of loss that accompanies the shift from large, multigenerational households to smaller, more isolated family units. It’s no surprise that this theme reverberates widely. Regardless of where or with whom we now live, many of us kindle past memories of gathering as a large family for festive meals, and seeing those moments relived onscreen strikes a deeply familiar chord.

The behind-the-scenes of the family lunch scene where Boonnitipat revealed his challenges with blocking.

The scene of family lunch captures this feeling vividly: the younger son wandering around, the elder son’s wife and daughter drifting offscreen, A-mah searching for a seat, with the elder son busying himself with the guests — all moving independently, absorbed in their own routines. This mirrors the way family gatherings often feel, especially during festive occasions, where everyone is engaged in their own tasks, altogether creating a tapestry of individual movement within a shared space.

For Boonnitipat, however, this seemingly mundane scene presented a unique challenge. He had to decide each character’s blocking to ensure that no one obstructed the camera, while also maintaining the scene’s natural flow. The goal was to convey that these family lunches had happened so often that each family member knew their role instinctively. Achieving this balance required meticulous planning, as the scene needed to appear both visually cohesive and true to the family’s well-worn traditions.

In terms of cinematography, Boonnitipat also employs a variety of wide shots, drawing inspiration from Thai films from the 1950s to 1970s. However, realizing this vision was not without challenges. He had to convince the studio to embrace these techniques, as the extensive use of wide shots and blocking is now rare in commercial Thai cinema. Fortunately, the results are well worth the effort: on one hand, the detailed blocking brings a vibrant movement to the characters, making them feel down-to-earth and immediate. On the other hand, the wide shots capture the stunning landscapes of the filming locations, which have since become tourist attractions. These sweeping visuals not only enhance the film’s aesthetic appeal but also anchor the story within its cultural and physical setting, creating a viewing experience that is both visually and emotionally engaging.

Talat Phlu, the market in Bangkok's Thonburi district, where A-mah and M sell congee has become a tourist hotspot

The Thai-Chinese cultural elements, characters, and bold cinematographic techniques all come together to fulfil Boonnitipat’s vision—creating “a timeless film that transcends both time and national borders”. It is inspiring to witness such a heartfelt narrative, one that is both uniquely Thai-Chinese and transculturally relatable, succeed not only locally but also throughout the Southeast Asian region, and hopefully beyond. In an industry known for its BL (Boys’ Love) dramas, this film stands out amongst the conventional Thai cinematic landscape, demonstrating that stories with strong cultural specificity, when told with the right tools and vision, can reach international influence. This success offers a hopeful message to aspiring filmmakers across Southeast Asia: with a dedication to craft and authenticity, stories can indeed transcend language and cultural barriers, touching hearts across the world.