How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies

This is a movie about dying, but more than that it's a heart-achingly beautiful story about loving. It made me cry for the first time about halfway through, and I couldn't stop until the credits rolled. Later, I thought about a scene on the way back home, and couldn't help but cry again.

Mengju is an aging matriarch who dreams of a big burial plot where her family could gather after she's gone. Her grandson, M, is a useless layabout who can't get his life in order. The other children are not much better. Everyone is so busy with their hustles that they can't see how the lonely Mengju, even in the face of death, only wishes for them to be together again.

Then comes the news: Mengju is dying, and it will be soon. M, after meeting his cousin who cares for lonely, dying old men, devises a plan to get into Mengju's good graces, and hopefully on the inheritance list, before she goes.

How on earth could this be touching, you might ask. It's a valid question, and for the first hour, I seethed with anger at M and his vile plan. It is one of the many miracles of the film, written and directed by the 35-year-old Pat Boonnitipat, that I empathized and liked him in the end.

When M moves in with Mengju, the wisened lady sees right through him. He persists and pretends until he doesn't, and soon M surprises himself – and us – when he realizes how much love for Mengju he has buried inside. We slowly learn more about their history and the uncomfortable dynamics within the family. "You're my favorite," Mengju confides in each of her children in turn, and it's never quite clear just how much she means it to any of them.

Then the unthinkable happens: M realizes he doesn't want Mengju to die. He matures before our eyes and allows himself to remember who he was as a child. Only, as the title suggests, time is everything he and Mengju don't have.

Death lingers in every frame of the film, yet it's not a dour or somber affair. We know it's coming, so every moment of levity feels that much more important. It isn't until we know something will be taken away that we can allow ourselves the freedom to love it with all our hearts. How silly and tragic that is.

Boonnitipat is a wonderful writer and director. He understands exactly where to place his camera, and then not to move it. Instead, we play the editor and choose where to focus our attention. The actors move with comfort throughout their scenes, and there's a lived-in quality to this tranquil drama. As if we've been given a window to peer into the lives happening next door.

When Boonnitipat does show his hand, it's with the grace and assuredness of much older and experienced filmmakers. A car ride with the family at the end of the film is so touching it made my chest feel like it was going to burst. It captures the relief of saying that which has been left unsaid, the complexity of love, and how a goodbye can be the start of something new.

It's only January, yet I think How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies will feature high on my end-of-the-year list. This is a remarkable film, full of life and happiness and sorrow, that will live with me as long as I'm around. I loved every minute of it, and look forward to crying with it again soon.