🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of the Irish capital, an individual stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, the show arrives like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically over its spectacles on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show rather, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration to people happy to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another distinctly original portrayal by the actor) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the choices that directed him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, mentor and partner during their regular game night which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the moniker appears lost in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (the actress), a fresh energetic associate who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, calmly assured that there is nothing in life as uplifting as being in the company of dear pals.

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