🔗 Share this article

In a quiet suburb of Dublin, an individual can be found outside his home, dressed in a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only companion, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing critically over its spectacles at anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; working on multiple educational volumes for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as cheering as being with close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.