🔗 Share this article

In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a man is standing in his driveway, dressed in a vest and sharing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states Leonard, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, the show comes similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing critically through its eyewear toward anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing a range of kids' reference books for a boss who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally during their regular board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a recent lively colleague who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.