🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a man can be found outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; peering critically through its eyewear on everything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people happy to pootle around away from attention. But. The character (one more distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; working on multiple kids' reference books for a boss who ends messages saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and partner during their regular board games evening that serves both as debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker once ate a snack in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more on what younger viewers might call “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding us throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.