The lights go on, and to the left of the stage we see Winston Churchill (Ronald Keaton); he’s working on a painting, cigar in hand, as he notices the audience sitting behind him. Without much of an acknowledgement, he dives right into explaining what it is about painting that soothes him so, as the world around him seems to become more chaotic by the second. Instantly he seems to be at complete ease with us, and over the next two hours, proceeds to tell us his life story, from his childhood and his life in the military to his eventual position as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

Charmingly played by Keaton (who also adapted the script from Churchill’s own writings and James C. Hume’s teleplay Winston Churchill), the Prime Minister onstage seduces the audience with a combination of next-door-neighbor friendliness and old world intellectualism (he both condescends to and flatters America throughout), making him the epitome of the perfect politician. Very little “happens” plot-wise, and other than some projections that illustrate the people and places Churchill is discussing, Keaton is left to his own devices for the length of the show.

Perhaps better suited for WWII aficionados and history buffs, Churchill has very little to offer to audience members interested in riveting storytelling. A handsome production indeed, perfectly played by Keaton with lovely production design by Paul Deziel, its major issue is that for all of the importance of its subject matter, it fails to become truly transcendent theater. There is very little you would get out of the show, that you wouldn’t easily get from an encyclopedia entry.