🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving gently. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by its authors, based on the novelist’s quiet story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing critically over its eyewear on everything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to wander away from attention. However. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing several kids' reference books for a man who signs off correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, life coach and ally in a recurring gaming session which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Perhaps he previously devoured some food in record time, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as heartening as spending time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.