🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of Dublin, a man can be found on the pavement, sporting a tank top and voicing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, the show steps in similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky turn from the star) feels restless. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the choices which led him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps he once ate a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the performer), a recent spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.