🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of Dublin, an individual can be found on the pavement, dressed in a vest and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, the show arrives similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those content to amble along below the parapet. However. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; creating several kids' reference books for a boss who concludes emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and partner during their regular game night which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps he previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.