🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of the Irish capital, a person is standing on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, this series comes similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly over its eyewear at anything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those happy to wander out of the spotlight. However. He (another uniquely quirky portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a growing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the choices which led him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; working on a range of kids' reference books for an employer who concludes messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, guide and ally in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in mystery. It could be that he once ate some food unusually quickly, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as uplifting as passing time alongside dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and let it in.