🔗 Share this article

In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” states the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those content to amble along away from attention. And yet. The character (another uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels questioning the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; writing several educational volumes for a man who concludes emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, life coach and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a recent lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as uplifting as spending time with close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.