🔗 Share this article

In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual stands in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, the show steps in like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s subtle story – casts a critical eye at modern life; looking critically over its eyewear toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute for those content to amble along below the parapet. And yet. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the choices which led him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing a range of kids' reference books for a boss who ends emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured some food very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as spending time alongside dear pals.

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