Film funding: 'People will work hard for a country that produces great art' These perceptions were surely not improved by a recent speech given by Maria Miller, the Culture Secretary, in which she said that, in readiness for the cuts that will no doubt follow the Government's forthcoming spending review, the British arts world must prepare itself to make an economic case for public funding. "In an age of austerity, when times are tough and money is tight, our focus must be on culture's economic impact," she said. The implication seems to be that the British film industry (along with our music industry, galleries, and theatres) is effectively an enormous, artsy ISA: funding should go in and profit should come out, with the films themselves a kind of industrial by-product. Make an investment, reap the dividends. It's the language of a Halifax advert. Miller is absolutely right to say that films can and should help revitalise our economy, but she must surely realise that it is nigh-on impossible to tell in advance which films will end up doing the job. Three of the most commercially successful British pictures of the last 20 years were Trainspotting, The Full Monty and Billy Elliot: dramas set against backdrops of heroin abuse, the coal miners" strike and the decline of British steel. None of these titles were expected to be more than modestly profitable; they were made because their backers thought the films themselves were worthwhile. And together, they took £80 million at the British box office. Meanwhile, accountants at the UK Film Council in search of a commercial hit awarded £900,000 to a comedy called Sex Lives of the Potato Men. Funding for the arts has enough stigma attached as it is; turning it a vaguely artistically-inclined version of Wonga.com won't help. When a project receives Government money, it should feel like a vote of public confidence in this country's film-making talent, but presently, that confidence simply isn't there. Established directors like Ken Loach and Mike Leigh have to go grubbing around Europe for money, while younger filmmakers fly the nest for Hollywood at the first opportunity. The Philippines has two films in the prestigious Un Certain Regard strand at this year's Cannes Festival, which serves as a showcase for particularly creative and original work. James Franco has one: his self-directed, self-written, self-performed adaptation of the William Faulkner novel As I Lay Dying. The United Kingdom has zero. Think of that: the combined might of the British film industry is at present being outperformed by James Franco. That should be a national scandal. Miller could do worse than look to Germany, who have increased state funding of the arts for the last eight consecutive years, even as the country's overall federal budget has tightened. The reasoning is simple and unsentimental: a country that produces great art is a country people are more likely to work hard for and take pride in. "Support for art and culture is not a subsidy, but an essential investment in Gemany's future," Bernd Neumann, the country's Minister of State for Culture and the Media, has said. "Culture forms the basis of social cohesion - and provides crucial values for a world which is worth living in," reads a mission statement on the German Cabinet website. Figures released last year by the German Federal Film Fund show that for every euro of public money spent on film production between 2007 and 2011, six more followed from private companies, both domestic and international. In this climate, everything from Cloud Atlas to the "Berlin School" of young filmmakers and venerable auteurs like Michael Haneke has flourished. Or in other words: fund the arts on the basis of creative merit, not probable short-term profit, and real and tangible benefits will follow - along with the not-inconsiderable bonus of a vibrant national film industry. To me, that sounds like a dividend worth investing in. Although Zach Braff should probably stick to Kickstarter.