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).
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.
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.
