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Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Pop CultureOctober 12, 2024

How my collection of Funko Pops ended up in Te Papa

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Somewhere in the national museum’s vast storage facility sit 13 bug-eyed plastic figurines, most of them bought from The Warehouse. This is how they got there.

If you have managed to avoid them so far, I wouldn’t be offended if you went and read about anything else instead. Funko Pops are small vinyl toys depicting characters from TV, film, sports and memes but with blank soulless eyes. They had their big moment during the Covid nostalgia boom, before interest fell so hard that last year their maker threw away $30 million in stock.

On a trip to The Warehouse a couple of years ago, I bought one. It was the CGI rock man Korg from the Thor film series, played by Taika Waititi. We locked eyes, the Pop and I, and next thing I remember I was beeping him through the self-service checkout. A week or so later, it happened again. Nestled away in an op shop I found Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, played by Tauranga local Richard O’Brien. 

I’ve always collected stuff. Sometimes long term, like my treasured vintage Chupa Chups tins, sometimes short term, like screenshots of good headlines from the Hawke’s Bay Today. Realising my two new Funko Pops were both played by New Zealand actors, I needed more.

Next came KJ Apa (Riverdale), Lucy Lawless (Ash vs Evil Dead), Sam Neill (Jurassic Park), Lawrence Makoare (The Lord of the Rings), Anna Paquin (True Blood), Manu Bennett (a variety of shows and movies), and from Facebook Marketplace I got a couple of Temuera Morrison stormtroopers from the Star Wars prequels. Before long I had 13 bug-eyed figurines staring me down.

It didn’t last long. I woke one day to realise my collection of Pops was bad to look at, cluttering my life, and had a vaguely threatening aura. The novelty had worn off. Before I could dispose of them at my local Vinnies, though, fate intervened. I became aware of an iconic Spinoff video series called Get It to Te Papa. The show features Hayden Donnell travelling the length of the country to acquire classic New Zealand memorabilia (the Waitangi dildo, the Queen Street Santa, Suzanne Paul) and trying unsuccessfully to “get” them into the national museum. It gave me an idea.

On the general enquiries contact form on Te Papa’s website, there’s a sub-field titled “Giving or selling an object, a taonga (treasure), or a specimen to Te Papa”. I pulled the bag of toys out from the cupboard and filled out the form, sharing that as a kid I would have loved a toy of Māui from the Peter Gossage books, and that these Pops were rare examples of NZ-adjacent toys that should be preserved.

The good people of Te Papa were soon in touch. My Pops pitch was to be tabled at the next History Acquisitions meeting. Curator Stephanie Gibson warned me it was a slow process, and asked if I could hang onto the Pops in the meantime. To avoid falling under their influence again, I performed a blessing and sealed them in an airless tomb (blew my nose and stuffed them under the bed).

Most of Team New Zealand (Photo: Ben Fagan)

Weeks passed. Eventually I was told the tabling went well, and the next step was for the case to be made to the Head of New Zealand Histories & Pacific Cultures – surely the most qualified person to ever ponder the Funko Pop. Another six months passed before Stephanie sent through the good news that my acquisition had been deemed worthy. The proposal was then sent around the wider Te Papa team including conservators and collection managers. There was input from mana whenua and other advisors, especially on the Funko Pops depicting Māori and Pacific actors.

The Head (whose name I never learnt, like a shadowy mob boss) presented the Pops to the Collection Development Committee, “made up of several senior heads of department from across the organisation”. This final committee gazed into those big eyes, the void gazed back, and they decreed that my donation was to be accepted by the museum. They didn’t tell me exactly why they came to this decision, but on their website it says that the Pops are “an example of how New Zealanders are literally becoming faces of global pop culture characters and icons.”

There was then another round of paperwork, including a Deed of Gift in which I promised I wouldn’t ask for them back. Stephanie asked if I wanted any financial compensation and I said no (didn’t want to derail the deal), but I did ask if I could pretty please glimpse behind the scenes at the museum. She agreed and sent me to an understated but enormous storage facility where collection manager Carolyn McGill kindly showed me around the shelves and answered my questions. I saw Shrek the sheep (RIP), some expensive jewellery, and a variety of vintage biscuit cutters. It was fantastic.

Left: Shrek the Sheep in storage. Right: Shrek the Funko Pop (no relation)

On my way out I dropped off the bag of Pops. The conservator winced at my bag of unboxed plastic figures and explained pointedly they would have special boxes cut from foam to perfectly hold and preserve them. They would be cleaned, have their picture taken, and that I might get an email if they were to go on display (hopefully alongside other cursed objects, like the giant baby puppet or this dog).

As I turned to leave, a warmth spread across me, bells rang in the distance, and my Funko Pops became part of the national collection: “Gift of Ben Fagan”.

There’s a quote I like, from popular Funko Pop Elton John: “I’d love to be a minimalist, but I just have to accept what I am. I’m a magpie. You learn about things by collecting – you buy things, you read up about them, you learn.” He’s probably talking about rare pianos and obscure varieties of gold, but still, I can relate.

Keep going!
A still from Smith’s documentary Out There (Photo: Supplied)
A still from Smith’s documentary Out There (Photo: Supplied)

Pop CultureOctober 12, 2024

‘Party in the sky’ over Waiheke: The documentary maker and the UFO encounter

A still from Smith’s documentary Out There (Photo: Supplied)
A still from Smith’s documentary Out There (Photo: Supplied)

Alex Casey talks to filmmaker Alexis Smith about documenting her journey to communicate with extraterrestrial life. 

It began with just a few sudden bursts of light. Filmmaker Alexis Smith had been lying on a trampoline with her friend for a few hours on Waiheke Island, and nothing had happened. Exasperated, she wished aloud – “I wish they would just give me a party in the sky.” Almost immediately, they saw bright lights appear above their heads. “It was so crazy, all these flashes came from nowhere, along with this rush of really nice energy. It was really bizarre.” 

A few hours later, she encountered something even stranger. 

“It was about 2am when we both saw it,” Smith says. “This big aircraft appeared out of the clouds about one kilometre away.” Talking over Zoom, she raises her hands to demonstrate a steady hover. “It was huge, about three times bigger than any big international aircraft, and it was completely silent.” She presents more details: a silver oblong shape, rounded windows, and coloured neon lights around the edges. What she can’t present, sadly, is a photo. 

Whether it’s Sabrina Carpenter pashing an E.T., Alien Romulus getting a certified fresh rating, or the congressional hearing into unidentified aerial phenomenon, extra-terrestrials have beamed themselves back into the mainstream of late. And yet, they raise more questions than ever – NASA’s 2023 report analysed hundreds of UAP sightings and still could not confirm, nor rule out, the presence of “potential unknown alien technology” operating on Earth.

For Smith, the truth about extraterrestrial life has always been on her mind, among many other things. Having studied Zoology in Scotland, Smith followed in the footsteps of her hero David Attenborough by then making documentaries for the BBC. She’s used the genre to explore everything from science explainers to the Church of England, eventually moving to Aotearoa and making Edgewalkers for TVNZ+ and award-winning Te Ara: The Path

In her latest documentary Out There, made for Loading Docs season 10, Smith becomes as much of the subject as the beings she is trying to find. In the hopes of removing some of the stigma for people who have seen unexplained things, had unexplained encounters, or just have questions, Smith chose to share a story from her childhood as a part of the documentary. “I still find it nerve-wracking to talk about, because I know it is so strange,” she laughs. 

Alexis Smith. (Photo: Supplied)

“One of my first memories I have is being a toddler in the back of the car driving home from my grandparents’ house, and just having this really deep feeling and memory of another place that I had come from that wasn’t Earth,” she says. “I intuitively thought of it as another planet, and I felt this deep, deep yearning to go back.” As she got older she continued to feel the yearning, even drawing maps of outer space “as a reminder to my adult self to never forget.” 

Those maps feature in the documentary Out There, as Smith reaches out to a fascinating group of New Zealanders who meet up regularly in the hopes of communicating with extraterrestrial beings. The group that features in the documentary, CE-5 Aotearoa, describe themselves as a “scientific and diplomatic initiative” seeking to “establish peaceful communication with extraterrestrial intelligence” through meditation protocols.  

At this point, the ungenerous yet necessary question must be asked: aren’t these people all completely delusional tinfoil hat types? “Look, I know exactly what you mean, but there’s none of that,” Smith says. “They’re the loveliest group of people who come from all kinds of backgrounds, all kinds of careers, ages, countries. The one thing that unites them all is their curiosity and desire to be proactive in finding and connecting with extraterrestrials.” 

As Out There confirms, interest in alien life does indeed come from all walks of life. CE5 members featured include a hairdresser, an engineer and materials scientist, and a magazine editor. “I’ve had experiences which can only be described as high strangeness,” says Doug the engineer. Later, he recalls his encounter with a “being” around two feet tall, with “skinny arms and legs” and “two big round black eyes” with only three fingers on each hand. 

The testimonies are buzzy to say the least, but Smith knew that she needed evidence. After a year of working closely with the CE5 group to earn their trust and learn their protocols, she was allowed to bring in a camera crew for four days as they attempted to make contact. “Because of the stigma, it was very scary for them letting a camera crew in,” she says. “But they trusted me that I would be respectful because I was going in and looking for answers myself.” 

On the very first night, it didn’t take long for things to start happening in the sky. “It’s so hard to describe, but it’s as if a ship flew invisibly across the sky and flashed really brightly, then flew invisibly across the sky and flashed really brightly somewhere else.” In the documentary, you can hear the group is delighted, whooping “and again! and again!” at the light show above them. There’s just one problem: the cameras were being repositioned, and missed it. 

It’s a tale as old as time when it comes to UAP encounters, but luckily it wasn’t the crew’s only chance. On their third night of sitting under the stars, Smith says the group requested “close proximity contact” which resulted in hairdresser Kim reporting that she had been “touched” by a being. “No one around the group was moving at all, and she said it felt like it had almost touched her in her bones, and it had sent this energy through her,” says Smith. 

Other members of the group reported sensing a presence behind them, and others saw flashes of light around the group at the same time. Still, that was not enough to convince Smith. It was only months later, after watching hours and hours of footage, that she finally found something on tape that she couldn’t explain. Small sparks of light, momentarily popping up around the group, exactly around the time that Kim reported her close encounter. 

“Of course, I started to look into what else it could be,” Smith says. “We spoke for a long time about all the other possibilities – glow worms, fireflies, starlight reflecting off dew drops, or even pixels in the camera.” But our fireflies and glowworms don’t flash, and the camera never behaved like that at any other point during the shoot. “It all adds up to something very compelling, and something that requires some very deep consideration.” 

Because even though she’s now had multiple unexplained encounters, including the bright lights over Waiheke, Smith still isn’t a full convert just yet. “I am open-minded, but it’s very hard to push me into full belief,” she says. “But with all the research I’ve done and all the people that I’ve met, I have hope that there is something out there.” The next step is to get scientific analysis done on the footage as part of expanding Out There to a feature-length film. 

“I’m really curious to know the truth, and I’m determined to find it,” she says. “So yeah, watch this space.” In more ways than one, potentially. 

Watch the new season of Loading Docs, including Out There, here.