🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. The character (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the openings of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices that directed him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes correspondence using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that he once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh energetic colleague who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.