Julian Meyrick's important, challenging and often entertaining history of three Australian theatre companies has ramifications that reach far beyond the realms of the Australian theatre industry. Meyrick asks significant questions about arts policy, subsidy, compromise, compliance and the viability of genuinely alternative or independent art in a world where government grants can tempt artists to divert their creative energies into filling in application forms. When governmental bodies such as the Australia Council support creativity, do they also risk damaging or distorting it?

Meyrick examines the trajectories of three very different theatre companies. The flamboyant, short-lived, Paris Theatre Company in Sydney (1978) tried to eschew subsidy, was wildly ambitious and idealistic, and consisted of a group of hyper-talented artists – including Jim Sharman, Rex Cramphorn, Patrick White – who have had a major impact on the Australian and international theatrical landscape. By contrast, the Hunter Valley Theatre Company (1976–94, based in Newcastle, New South Wales) was a regional theatre company that kept getting caught in the crossfire of well-meaning intentions and artistic ambitions, negotiating regionality and different forms of subsidy and interference. The bulk of Meyrick's book, however, is devoted to the inspiring, infuriating and always extraordinary history of the Melbourne-based Anthill (1980–94), a company which presented as a collective but was completely dominated by its maverick artistic director, Jean-Pierre Mignon.

Anthill, or the Australian Nouveau Theatre, was dedicated to performing experimental and/or classic drama. This meant that Anthill productions were usually successful in negotiating funding benchmarks such as ‘quality’ and ‘innovation’, but ‘Australian content’, which some assessors in the period immediately following the nationalistic 1970s New Wave felt was critical for funding, was harder to discern. Anthill's Chekhov triptych, which, thirty years later, I still remember vividly, was, for me, indubitably ‘Australian’ (which I would identify as larrikin, rule-breaking, physically committed, irreverent, multicultural). But, for others, Anthill's commitment to ‘Australianness’ was problematic, simply because its repertoire was dominated by European drama. Because it refused to dance to the Australia Council's tune, Anthill was bound to crash and burn eventually, but they went down fighting, glorious in their foolhardiness and disdain for the rules.

Writing with wit and panache, Meyrick recounts the fortunes and misfortunes of the three theatre companies, evoking both the genius and the nonsense, skewering pomposity and grieving over the casualties. He excavates memos, polemics and jottings from the Australia Council archives, resurrecting a few items that the authors would probably wish to remain buried. As well as reminding us that artists who cannot/do not fill in forms according to the rules (Jean-Pierre Mignon) are less likely to secure ongoing funding no matter how laudable their artistic ambitions, Meyrick also questions how cultural work can be evaluated, how funding agencies can assess value for money, and how art can be discussed in a way that makes sense to the state, to governments, to auditors and to cultural accountants. What metrics are important? Who judges? Meyrick doesn't offer solutions but he asks readers to confront the challenges. For example, peer review has to be contentious when artists are competing against each other for an ever-shrinking pot of money.

Meyrick's arguments are relevant to any state where art and culture are subsidized. While I remain unconvinced by his decision to bring French philosopher and playwright Alain Badiou into the debate, this book is significant in suggesting that subsidy could – and should – do better. Meanwhile I am struck by how many of Meyrick's concerns apply to British academia now, with the current emphasis on academics’ grant capture rather than on their intellectual daring or originality. Meyrick's underlying theme – cultural subsidy could be done better – really does resonate far beyond the purlieus of Australian theatre.