As the Gallipoli: The scale of our war exhibition featuring those famous giant figures draws unprecedented visitor numbers to Te Papa, interest also seems to be growing overseas.
In November, Weta Workshop's Richard Taylor will report on "Gallipoli: The scale of our war", at an international conference on the future of museums.
Taylor will relate to curators gathered in Hong Kong how he worked with Te Papa to assemble something special, an historic exhibition combining interactive theatre and cinematic techniques with historical exhibits and - of course - those eight giant (2.4 times larger than life) figures.
Apparently nothing quite like this has been seen before.
I can believe it. About 250,000 people have walked through since opening on April 18, the 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli landing in 1915.
The $8 million dollar exhibition is free but there's an imperative well beyond the enjoyment of a free day out.
There is fascination in matching today's date with events taking place 100 years ago. You follow a timeline painted on the floor, marking important battle dates and other events and providing a cross for each of the 3000 Kiwi fatalities.
Each of the eight giants - carefully researched characters representing seven soldiers and a nurse from the time - can stop a visitor in their tracks.
Weta Workshop took 24,000 hours to craft these figures; they're clinically accurate replicas, down to every thread of clothing and pore of skin. Yet they also seem to be animated with breath and intense emotion.
The explanation famous sportswriter T.P. McLean gave for his fascination for rugby, that it was "a study of the human being under stress", applies here.
The feeling - aided by these figures - that you're back watching events which took place 100 years ago, will be intense through to December 20, the anniversary of the Anzacs' stealthy withdrawal from the Peninsula.
But this spooky "same-day-factor" is just one aspect. As Te Papa's lead designer Ben Barraud said: "If you had just half an hour available to learn the details of what happened at Gallipoli, this would be the place to spend it".
Less is more
Four months after its opening, the exhibition is responsible for about a third of the visits to the museum, no surprise to lead curator at Te Papa, Kirstie Ross.
She points out Gallipoli will always be important to New Zealanders "not primarily because of the 3000 killed there, which pales beside later the death toll from later and far more mechanised battles in France, but as the first major action of World War 1 our soldiers fought in."
The exhibition team, led by Taylor and supported by military historian Christopher Pugsley, Ms Ross and Te Papa lead designer Benjamin Barraud, agreed to keep the story to a plain and simple linear account. There's no mention of the geopolitics of World War 1, scene setting and affairs back home, or concepts imposed on the Gallipoli story in subsequent years such as "New Zealand's coming of age as a nation".
Texts, which Taylor insisted should be pitched to the level of a nine-year-old, were crafted using real soldiers' descriptions of daily life, taken from their letters.
"In relating events often disturbing but sometimes heroic and inspiring, we kept away from the 'Eye of God' technique normally associated with museums, and stuck to a narrative which could have been written by an educated subaltern on the battlefield," says Ms Ross.
The decision to give such a pared-down account is one of the great strengths of the exhibition.
Accuracy
The scale comprises all the magic of the movie industry without sacrificing historical accuracy.
Latest technology is used to improve understanding of the geography. A model of the Gallipoli Peninsula lights up to represent locations of events in the campaign. A medically accurate animation of the effects of bullets on the human body has been nominated for an award by the Royal College of Surgeons.
There are film clips of men inside Turkish trenches, seen in glimpses as you follow the footsteps of scouts attacking Chunuk Bair. You can hear the sermon preached in te reo to members of the Maori contingent plus hymns they sang on the evening of the attack.
Vibrations of artillery come up through the floor as you march in the footsteps of men attacking this high ground. You see the men inside Turkish trenches, either totally unaware or reacting with astonishment as the New Zealand troops storm in.
Skill
Something must be added about Te Papa's skilful use of the traditional domain of museums - telling stories through objects and artefacts with light and sound. There are machine guns actually used on the Gallipoli battlefields, uniforms worn by troops there, food containers, models of latrines, a replica of the dugout used by heroic commander Colonel William Malone . . .
Such objects complement the impressive electronic technology, helping to keep the visitor grounded.
A set of binoculars, displayed near the giant figure of Spencer Westmacott firing his revolver on landing day, had an eerie impact on Ben Barraud.
He'd had them on his desk at home but when the need came to procure objects used at Gallipoli, Ben checked the name engraved on the binoculars, learning with astonishment they'd been used there during World War 1.
His antique binoculars belonged to an M. Montgomery, whom he looked up on the Cenotaph database, discovering Montgomery held the same rank as Westmacott (second lieutenant) and, like Westmacott, had also lost an arm in combat.
"This taught me that that six degrees of separation which we sometimes talk about can be pretty powerful.
"But this kind of story isn't unique. Many visitors discover previously unknown connections to the campaign or learn more about ones they had incomplete information on."