🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of Dublin, a person is standing on the pavement, dressed in a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, the show comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing critically over its eyewear at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those satisfied to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) feels restless. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels doubting the choices that directed him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; working on multiple educational volumes for a man who concludes messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, life coach and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as uplifting as being alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and let it in.