🔗 Share this article

In a quiet area of the Irish capital, an individual is standing outside his home, wearing a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program written by its authors, based on the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage of those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (one more distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “need to open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that have brought him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, mentor and partner during their regular gaming session which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a vibrant character (the actress), a new lively co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program focused less on story and more by what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.