In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a man can be found outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”
For those exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.
Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by its authors, adapted from the author’s subtle book – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking critically over its spectacles on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those happy to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. He (a further uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … a little.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels doubting the decisions which led him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).
Thus Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.
(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).
Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the actress), a new spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.
Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse using his trivia skills.
Shepherding the audience through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.
But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.
Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.