🔗 Share this article

In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a man stands on the pavement, sporting a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming landscape, this series arrives as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part program developed by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to amble along below the parapet. But. The character (another distinctly original turn by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the choices which led him to this point (single; sporting facial hair; writing several educational volumes for a boss who signs off correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, mentor and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded in history. It could be that he once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more on what a modern audience might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding us throughout this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.