‘Paddington’ Is Latest Addition To Rockefeller Theater Empire

Let’s get one thing straight: Paddington 2 is one of the best films of the last decade. Its wholesome story is an existential panacea, and the complete lack of Oscar recognition was a travesty - made all the more heartbreaking because one suspects Paddington himself would not be disappointed, but simply pleased for all his awarded colleagues.

He’s the bear we need but don’t deserve. If you disagree, I will give you a Hard Stare.

Fortunately, he’s not leaving us anytime soon, with a Nickelodeon series premiering this week, and a charming stage debut now playing in New York: Paddington Gets in a Jam. More fortunately still, the man responsible is a natural steward for the marmalade-loving mammal’s 60-year legacy.

Jonathan Rockefeller, director and producer of Paddington Gets in a Jam, is affable and soft-spoken, closer to his inner child than your average bear. He’s far more reminiscent of, say, Tom Hanks than the oil baron who shares his name – though he shares the entrepreneurial drive.

“Kids have the fundamental ability to fill in the blanks that adults don’t,” he says in a soothing Australian lilt. “We see it when they play: they're able to invent characters, invent scenarios. They don't need iPads.”

We’re sitting in a quiet midtown café, reviewing the roster of theatrical ventures under Rockefeller Productions, which Jonathan, 36, founded in 2014. They include the aforementioned bear, as well as Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar, the company’s flagship property. Caterpillar alone features over 60 meticulously crafted puppets, and has three tours in the US at any given time, as well as multiple productions internationally.

Each show’s budget is comparable to traditional Off-Broadway fare, costing “several hundred thousand” up front, but because they’re only an hour long, they can be performed up to four times per day. And instead of a traditional licensing structure, where a theater pays for the script but has to build puppets themselves, Rockefeller ships out their own bespoke menagerie in exchange for a piece of the box office.

And the target audience is, as they say, evergreen.

“New kids are, well, born every year. And they can come back to our shows at two, at four, at six, and get a different experience each time.”

As a result, the shows recoup their costs in weeks, and have collectively grossed over $10,000,000 – orders of magnitude larger than their fronted capital – and in theaters of only 200 seats or less.

“Jonathan has a good formula” says Brad Simon, whose booking agency helps place Rockefeller’s shows in regional theaters. “These are multi-generational properties, that parents and grandparents grew up with and want to share with their kids. And he does have this Fred Rodgers approach. The shows are gentle. They’re not loud, they’re not hitting you with lights and sound effects.”

The Rogers comparison is apt. While his business acumen is impressive, it’s the way Rockefeller talks about children that is most striking, and seems to be key to the burgeoning business. His focus on meeting them where they are, rather than telling them how to be more grown-up, is of a piece with Rogers’ worldview.

“Caterpillar works because of its pacing,” he explains, ever patient. “It may feel slow to parents, but it’s right for kids. They’re okay with repetition, because they’re on the same development curve we all were. They still need to learn how to read, to count, to take care with other people. It’s just about providing the right stimulus.”

His insights harken to his own childhood, memories of which infuse the business ethos. Growing up in a suburb of Sydney, Rockefeller was perpetually disappointed by his entertainment options, which were, as he describes them, either soulless corporate costume shows or shoestring community productions.

Driven by a desire for more consummate storytelling, he began working as an associate for Aussie maestro Baz Luhrmann at 19, learning the ropes of the global entertainment industry, first through Luhrmann’s production of La Bohème, then through stints in film, music video production, and advertising.

However, the underlying passion was always creating “fun worlds” where visitors could feel welcome, and properly satisfied.

“We don't aspire to be on Broadway,” he explains. “While our shows can scale up in size, everyone needs to feel like they're having an intimate experience. I'd hate to give a kid a nosebleed seat and then never have them come back to the theater.”

This desire eventually drove him to New York, where he set up a puppet construction operation in Queens. And for the last six years, his team has been dedicated to building a new brand of children’s entertainment, one that introduces them gently to a larger world, where screens aren’t babysitters and no one feels left out.

Caterpillar especially is designed not only for very young audiences, but also those on the autism spectrum, an increasing area of focus for children’s entertainment. They are never told to hush (“You can’t make a two-year old be quiet”), the lights are always half up, sound levels are low, and kids are allowed to leave and re-enter as they please – with a book in the lobby that tells them everything that’s happening on stage if the theater becomes overwhelming.

“It’s providing a warm, comforting space that tries to acknowledge all our different abilities. And the wonderful surprise parents get is that their kids will sit - eyes glued - and participate. For an hour.”

My experience watching Paddington bore this out. The parents and grandparents were the loudest in the audience as they asked, “Did you see that?” with many kids totally rapt – until they burst into joyous screaming unison, pointing out that Paddington himself was indeed right there mom.

(It’s worth noting that not everything under the Rockefeller umbrella is for tots. They also produce a puppet show based on The Golden Girls. As put by one cheeky affiliate who asked not to be named: “Drunkest audience you’ve ever seen. And they were all dressed up in costume. Like Rocky Horror.”)

Rockefeller’s focus, however, is on priming and cultivating these first-time theatergoers – including, sometimes, the parents.

“Children’s theater gets the wrong end of the stick,” he laments. “It should be right up there with the quality that any adult is going to see. Otherwise, how are we going to get children interested in the first place? And why would their parents ever bring them back?”

Moving forward, Caterpillar will continue to be licensed across America, and tour other continents. (By their internal estimates, 15% of Australia’s children have already seen it). Paddington is in New York until March 8^th, after which he ships up to Toronto, then back on tour in America later in the year. More projects are in the works, none of which Rockefeller could discuss on the record, but are of an even more nostalgic caliber.

As for the name? He changed it from Worsley in 2014 when he married his husband, Wilson Rockefeller, 56. When profiled in The New York Times, Jonathan said simply of his husband’s lineage: “It was a good name to take.”

Talking with me in the café now, he’s more reflective.

“There’s positives and negatives to that name, obviously. What I find fascinating is where they started. It was sort of about finding opportunities in the market. And that's what I see us doing: looking for opportunities and creating markets that don't exist.”

The company’s logo winks at this legacy with a fittingly theatrical flair. It’s an octopus, the famous Standard Oil emblem...doffing a top hat with its tentacle.

“Fortunately, I think what we’re doing in theater is a lot more palatable than working with oil.”