🔗 Share this article

In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a man stands outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of modern television landscape, the show steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its eyewear at anything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … slightly.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating multiple educational volumes for a man who signs off correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe Paul once ate a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, a little, and allow it entry.