🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing skeptically through its spectacles at anything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people content to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “need to open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends messages using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally in a weekly game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate a snack very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as passing time alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and let it in.