The well-known song ”The Curtain Falls” kept running through my head as I worked on this piece. The lyrics—“This is it, the last screening / We part with no hard feelings… / We came together because we didn’t understand / We parted because we did”—struck me as capturing the mood of the ongoing restructuring of our government.

Interestingly, you can chart the evolution of the mission of the Government Information Office (GIO) in the rise, decline, and subsequent revival of Taiwanese film. Looking back, the first article I wrote for Taiwan Panorama (then known as Sinorama) was on the rise of Taiwan’s New Wave Cinema in the 1980s. Guided by then Central Pictures president Ming Chi and screenwriters Li Yuan and Wu Nien-jen, cutting-edge directors such as Edward Yang, Ko I-cheng, and Chang Yi won critical acclaim for their inaugural efforts. The directors of that generation moved domestic film beyond love stories and martial arts epics, into realms that resonated more with everyday lives. With that, Taiwan’s domestic films began bringing home international awards.

Later, the New Wave directors would take a turn toward the austere and claustrophobic, to the detriment of ticket sales. With production companies losing interest in financing money-losing projects, the government’s Domestic Film Guidance Fund became the industry’s backstop. In 1999, I wrote a piece entitled “Can Grants Save the Taiwan Film Industry?” describing how the pursuit of these relatively paltry funds was tearing the industry apart. Critics argued that greater assistance was only making matters worse.

For a long time, no one had anything good to say about Taiwanese film. Few movies were being made and ticket sales were poor. It was only the work of a few passionate and stubborn directors that kept the industry alive.

Domestic film regained its relevance in 2008, at a time when Taiwanese society seemed set to explode. With the political and economic situation a mess, the public desperately needed to let off some steam. Then Cape No. 7 came out. Somehow, its opening line cursing Tai­pei provided audiences a release. The film’s positive word of mouth turned it into a veritable social phenomenon, and helped foster the revival of the domestic film industry.

On May 20, responsibility for the creative and cultural industries, which had been split among the GIO, the Ministry of Economic Affairs, and the Council for Cultural Affairs (CCA), will be consolidated in the hands of the new Ministry of Culture (MOC). Happily, this means domestic film has found a new sponsor.

Taiwan is a small island that has long had a disproportionately large government. Harmonizing the actions of the various ministries and departments required numerous administrative processes. This bloat not only slowed interdepartmental communications, it also wasted public resources.

The government was still organized as it had been in 1949, and its structure was no longer well adapted to the needs of the times. The Executive Yuan began studying structural reforms in 1987. The DPP administration proposed reforms to the Legislative Yuan during its tenure, but the measures failed. Reintroduced by President Ma’s administration, reforms passed, bringing more than 20 years of work to fruition.

As CCA chairperson Lung Ying-tai stated in a February press conference: the new MOC needs to be like a sugar cube in water, dissolving into every ministry and department of the government. Lung believes the MOC shouldn’t take the stage itself, but should instead work behind the scenes. She argues that it is not responsible for making flowers bloom, but for preparing the soil, giving our creativity a place to take root. Her prescription for cultural policy is straightforward: “Calm, orderly, slow and deep, free of fickle political winds and of expectations of immediate results.”

Lung, a celebrated writer with a gift for metaphor, always attracts media attention and the new ministry is clearly going to create a stir. We can’t wait to see how Taiwanese film, music, publishing, and comics develop when they are back in the hands of cultural experts.