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Op-Ed: Lights, Camera... No Action? Why the Singaporean Film Scene Lacks Appeal
- Han Yiheng
- Jun 15
- 13 min read
When was the last time you watched a local film? As Singapore places greater emphasis on nurturing a vibrant arts scene, Han Yiheng examines a long-overlooked art in need of revival.
Disclaimer: Views expressed in this article are the writer’s own and are not representative of MAJU’s views. While we make every effort to ensure that the information shared is accurate, we welcome any comments, suggestions, or corrections of errors.
Lights, Camera... No Action? Why the Singaporean Film Industry Lacks Appeal
As I watch more and more movies, there are fewer and fewer film-related questions on which I struggle to give an opinion. What is your favourite genre? Who is your favourite director? Your favourite documentary…?
Yet, there remains one question that I still cannot really answer: What is your favourite local film? My go-to response is a nervous laugh, then some waffling, before admitting that I have simply not been exposed to enough Singaporean films – surely there exists some local movie out there that really speaks to me. However, after many deliberate attempts to seek out this elusive favourite film, I have come up short. And I want to understand why.
While it would be extreme to claim that this is wholly a result of an inept local film industry, it does seem to me that there exists a deeper and more systemic issue at play. After all, when was the last time you heard rave reviews for a local production? When was the last time you, or anybody, watched one? In my view, Singaporean filmmakers are not to blame; there is no shortage of talent here. But what we can blame are the challenges that these filmmakers need to tackle to realise their creative potential, often a Herculean task that results in a limp and unfulfilled local film scene.
Once Upon a Time in Singapore…
So, what are these challenges? Is Singapore just naturally ill-equipped to win Oscars? In my view, many challenges faced by local filmmakers today are new ones. That is to say, our film industry is necessarily a victim of the modern Singaporean context, one defined by its ruthless pragmatism. If we look into the past, before our independence, we can see that our film scene was not always so lacklustre.
Between the 1940s and 70s, Singapore ran under a well-established “studio system”, recognised to be a “Hollywood of Southeast Asia” by film historians. The studio system can be defined as a film industry dominated by a few major movie-making studios (think Warner Bros and Universal Pictures), in charge of all production and distribution needs of the film. For Singapore, these studios were the Cathay Organisation and Shaw Brothers; while they still exist today, Cathay and Shaw are largely only responsible for distribution, i.e., getting movies onto their screens. In the Golden Era, these two studios had a major part to play in the production of local films as well, building up teams of A-list directors, actors, and crew.
As a result, local films received a sizeable amount of funding and support. Production value for local films was high and attracted audiences to seats. In a short 20 years, 160 feature-length films would come from Shaw, and at least another 100 more from Cathay.
What we can learn from Singapore’s Golden Era is the simple fact that film is as much a business as it is an art. The recipe for a successful film (or film industry, for that matter) is a blend of creative talent, as well as strong financial backing. However, in modern-day Singapore, the lack of capital is a problem that cannot be understated.
Money No Enough
This is a story you have heard many times: post-independence Singapore was hyperfocused on industrialisation and basic survival, leaving little room for the growth of our arts scene. Indeed, after the closure of the production branches of Shaw and Cathay, many local talents left for Malaysia, chasing its larger market. Coupled with the advent of television during this era, Singapore experienced a dearth of both movie makers and movie watchers.
In the present day, filmmakers undoubtedly receive more financial support, whether that be from government grants, such as the Infocomm Media Development Authority (IMDA) Long Form Content grant, or from private investors. That said, we must recognise that both these sources of funding come with their own problems.
Government grants are often less-than-generous with how much they give, and to whom they give. IMDA’s Long-Form Content Grant government provides a maximum of SGD$600,000. Not only that, this sum is only doled out to productions meeting strict criteria, where the producer must have an established track record of long-form works, shutting out up-and-coming filmmakers from accessing the money. Where a film can cost anywhere up to 2 or 3 million SGD to produce, market, and distribute, filmmakers can hardly rely on government support alone.
Private investors are hesitant about the returns they can turn from investing in a local film, and with good reason. The local box office only comprises 2 to 4 per cent of Singapore’s total box office; this is to say, the revenue generated from local films is almost negligible compared to that of international productions. This is especially discouraging to investors when they see that other countries like South Korea have a local box office of almost 50 per cent.
Without a solid foundation of local audiences paying to watch local films, investors can rarely justify spending on Singaporean cinema. Where local films receive private funding, they often come in the form of intrusive product placements. They often cheapen the feel of the film, forcing writers to make concessions to their story to subtly (or not so subtly) introduce an investor’s product into the narrative.
Ultimately, Singaporean filmmakers are hard-pressed to find the funds needed to produce a film, and the options presented to them are either insufficient, or compromise artistic integrity. Commercially-viable filmmakers in Singapore largely belong to the old guard, producing films that find it hard to appeal to newer generations of movie-goers.
The financial constraints faced by local filmmakers can be alleviated by a greater consideration of the unique needs of the filmmaking process. Grants specifically for the marketing and promotion of local films can be implemented alongside production grants to enhance their visibility amidst competition from international blockbusters. This support can help level the playing field in terms of advertising and outreach. There should also be special consideration for the specific needs and goals of each film. The government could consider being more generous in supporting films that promote Singaporean culture or tell uniquely-Singaporean stories, helping emerging talents tell authentic stories that build up our film industry in the long run.
Singapore could also look overseas for inspiration. The Centre National du Cinéma (CNC) in France finances the work of not just established, profitable filmmakers, but also the work of up-and-coming talents. It gets funding from a tax levied on all cinema tickets sold in French theatres (be it a Marvel blockbuster or an indie film). Critics argue that the CNC is often too generous with its funding, spending hefty sums on experimental or fringe cinema that would never turn a profit. However, one the central goals of the organisation is to ensure those types of films do get made, contributing to the larger culture of cinematic appreciation amongst French citizenry. It demonstrates that the government has an active role to play in nurturing a healthy film industry that not only supports big-budget blockbusters, but also tells important stories that exist on the fringe.
While such an idealistic approach may never be fully accepted in pragmatic Singapore, the government could consider a similar scheme that builds up a national film fund, with the sole intention of supporting local independent films. While the scale of funding may not match that of the CNC, even a modest investment in nurturing local talent and storytelling could go a long way.
Cut it Out: The Censorship Issue
While we recognise that film is largely a financial endeavour, we cannot ignore that it is also fundamentally about expression. Like any art, film seeks to tell the unique stories that Singaporeans find important. Unfortunately, in a country that has found fault with a cigarette in a public mural, how much can local films really probe deeply into issues without coming under heavy scrutiny? It is my view that Singapore’s strict censorship laws have created a diminished risk appetite in creative expression, leading to a kind of self-censorship amongst creatives.
First, a quick brief on the film censorship policies in Singapore. The IMDA remains the exclusive film censorship body in Singapore since its inception. Instead of “censoring”, IMDA “classifies” based on the six age ratings we’ve all seen (PG, NC16, etc.), an improvement from the restrictive three-rating system of the 90s. What is less known to the public, however, is that IMDA still reserves the right to “refuse classification” of a film, meaning an outright ban from public exhibition and distribution. It also is able to request for a film to edit or remove content. So much for simple “classification”…
To exemplify the extent to which IMDA exercises these powers, we need only to look back into recent history. Just last year, IMDA ironically censored a film about censorship, banning its release at the Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF). The film, “Small Hours of the Night”, is a rare film from a local director that chronicles a story of governmental dissent: the tale of an anti-establishment bus driver in the early years of Singapore’s independence, and his brother’s mission to inscribe a revolutionary poem on his gravestone. IMDA described the film to feature “illegal” content, being “prejudicial” to national interest if it were to air.
The state’s firm grip on films exhibited demonstrates a paranoia that Singaporeans are readily influenced and manipulated by viewpoints that run counter to the state’s interests. Not only does this limit audiences’ exposure to alternative narratives, it also affects our filmmakers’ capacity to create. There is less room for experimentation and less storytelling, as they are fundamentally straitjacketed by a system permitting only mainstream ideals that uphold a palatable status quo. Those who fail to adhere to these rules are not technically punished with the hand of the law, but will suffer from the financial repercussions of a strict rating. Director Eric Khoo spoke out in a CNA documentary about how he had to “fight” for a PG rating on his seminal film “12 Storeys”, choosing to cut seven raunchier scenes from the original version just so as to exhibit the work to a larger audience.
What this signals to Singaporean filmmakers is that there is no room for even the slightest form of dissent or counterculture in their films, creating a pervasive kind of self-censorship. One writer notes that the “pressure to conform mounts inexorably” in Singapore, especially when it is your friends and family that are convinced alternative views are dangerous to our fragile social fabric, as per the state’s narrative. In the context of the arts and film, censorship laws do not affect every creation, but (as another writer notes) hangs over the heads of all artists like a “sword of Damocles”.
As a result, filmmakers become acutely aware of what will and will not be censored. IMDA does not need to do the heavy lifting in continuing to over-monitor films, because filmmakers monitor themselves and limit the stories they (dare to) tell. Indeed, we see that as the years go by, less and less films receive the harsh “refused classification” judgement. In my view, this is not a sign of a growing freedom of expression; the government’s stance on this has hardly changed. Rather, it signifies the diminishing number of films that are bold in the stories they tell. When this happens, the state remains in a favourable status quo, and our film industry suffers all the more for it.
The need to censor and control artistic creations stems from the unstable era of post-independence Singapore. While our “fragile” social fabric has undoubtedly grown stronger, it would be too idealistic to suggest IMDA removes all censorship policies and restrictions on our filmmakers. Not even liberal societies of the West exist without some form of censorship. Instead, Singapore should work toward a better way for filmmakers to communicate with state censors, perhaps establishing a thorough appeals process to contest classification decisions, ensuring fair consideration of artistic expression, while being cautious of radical or dogmatic works.
While such reforms are necessary, we cannot simply stop there. We must also reconsider what is being censored and why. As Singaporean society matures, our understanding of what constitutes “radical” content should too. The arduous but necessary process of recalibrating our sensibilities must take place; we must begin to accept previously “radical” films as essential provocations in building a thriving artistic culture. Indeed, such provocations have been singularly instrumental in invigorating film industries of other countries, like the cinematic New Waves of Taiwan and Poland. By loosening the content-based criteria used to restrict films, film can be a medium to spark much-needed reflection on our social compact, without ruffling too many feathers. Striking this balance is difficult, but ultimately essential if Singapore wants to foster a film scene that is both globally respected and locally meaningful.
The Case of the Missing Audience
As we approach the end of this article, I want to pose the simple question I brought up at the start: what’s your favourite local film? And I know most readers will struggle like me to find an answer. Aside from the financial and institutional challenges local films face, there seems to be one often overlooked: the lack of local support for Singaporean films.
Engagement with local films involves Singaporeans in important conversations about issues relevant to them, through stories that are close to their hearts. This not only fosters a more informed and active citizenry, it also creates an understanding of the cultural importance of film, allowing for greater support of the industry in the future. Unfortunately, according to a study, less than 30 per cent of Singaporeans saw a Singaporean film in 2018. Local filmmakers themselves have expressed that the challenge in making a film is not garnering international recognition, but winning over local audiences. The question is, then: why are Singaporeans so unwilling to watch Singaporean films?
I feel there are two pertinent factors that perpetuate a culture of distrust toward local films in Singapore. First, we as audiences have come to expect the worst of our films. In other words, local films are “guilty until proven innocent”. To understand what is meant by this, one only needs to think about the prevailing sentiments toward local media productions. The first words that come to mind sound less like “innovative”, “entertaining”, and more like “disappointing”, “cheap-looking”, “cash-grab”. It is a classic chicken-and-egg situation — audiences turn their noses up at Singaporean films because they think they are bad, and with fewer audiences, production companies can hardly afford to improve the quality of their films.
Now, the question becomes: where do audiences derive their propriety of taste? One explanation could be our constant exposure to Western standards of film: high-budget Hollywood blockbusters dominate the Singaporean box office, and the prevalence of streaming services like Netflix and Disney Plus provide uninterrupted exposure to Western films. Not only that, IMDA itself fuels this emphasis by exporting Singaporean cinema to the West.
The Singapore Film Commission (SFC), a branch of IMDA that “champions the development of Singapore's film industry and its talent”, actively promotes Singaporean film in overseas markets, particularly through international festivals like Cannes and prestigious awards like the Oscars. While this global recognition is undeniably valuable, it has also led to a skewed perception of what makes a local film worth watching: a local film is only worth our time of day if it is lauded abroad. A quick scan through IMDA’s reports on Singaporean films reveals an obsession with what the rest of the world thinks: “...continue to captivate global audiences”, “...Singapore films make their mark at international festivals”.
SFC’s focus placed on exporting our filmmaking talents has undeniably allowed Singapore to gain valuable international exposure. However, I believe that it has also sidelined the local audience, where there is a noticeable lack of concrete action being taken to attract Singaporean eyeballs to Singaporean films. We fail to recognise the importance of homegrown support, the necessity of nurturing an audience that values local storytelling, not only because it is validated by an external benchmark, but because it reflects who we are.
As Singaporeans, we are taught to be ambitious global citizens; Singapore is only so big, so why stop here? However, when it comes to film, there needs to be a readjustment of priorities. Ultimately, whatever Singapore decides to do, it needs to extend beyond the current purview of the SFC, which stands as an organisation to connect Singapore’s film industry to the rest of the world.
There is no silver bullet when it comes to the shifting of perceptions, especially for something as subjective as film. However, we can start by increasing Singaporeans’ engagement and exposure with local films. There should be regular screenings of local films in theatres. The films screened should not simply be works of commercially-viable, well-known directors, but works from independent or auteur filmmakers who have unique stories to tell.
Indeed, this is not Singapore’s first attempt at cultivating interest in local cinema. Past efforts like the BYO Cinema initiative, a free outdoor screening of local films that ran twice in 2018 and 2019, were well-intentioned but ultimately limited in impact. While such events are accessible and community-driven, their temporary nature means they do little to create sustained cultural engagement or industry support. Without long-term infrastructure, funding, and policy backing, these events amount to nothing more than a tokenistic wave of the governmental wand — an illusion of action without real substance. To build a thriving film culture, Singapore instead needs a consistent, deliberate strategy that integrates local film into everyday cultural life and, perhaps, even public education.
Outside of exposure, more needs to be done to raise Singaporeans’ ability to appreciate such films, i.e., cultivating higher levels of film literacy. SFC director Joachim Ng suggests the establishment of a film centre to promote a uniquely-Singaporean film culture. It would conduct the preservation, research and screening of local films, promoting film as an art form to the community.
Conclusion
The challenges plaguing the Singaporean film industry—from financial constraints to censorship and a disengaged audience—have created a cycle where local cinema struggles to thrive. However, this does not mean that Singaporean filmmakers are doomed. If anything, Singapore’s Golden Era proves that we are capable of more.
There is an urgent need to reconceptualise the role of film in Singapore—not just as a business, but as an art form worth spending on and nurturing. This means funding films not just for their commercial viability but for their cultural value, loosening the creative restraints that stifle meaningful storytelling, and most importantly, helping Singaporeans value homegrown cinema not as a last resort, but as a first choice. It is only then that our film industry can find support from the audience that matters the most.
It is only then, perhaps, that the next time someone asks what our favourite local film is, we will not hesitate before answering.
About the Author: Han Yiheng is currently serving his National Service (2 years to go...). In his military-mandated breaks, he can be found reading a book or reviewing the cookhouse food with his friends. During his weekends, he catches up on the latest releases in a local theatre, sustaining his lifelong passion of film and storytelling.
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