In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a man can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the main character, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”
For viewers tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, this series steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.
In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy developed by its authors, adapted from the author’s subtle book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly above its eyewear on everything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. The character (one more distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the decisions which led him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).
And so Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and partner in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.
(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten in history. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured a snack very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).
Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.
Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers might call “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.
Guiding viewers through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.
No more criticism currently. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as heartening as passing time with good friends.
Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.
Renewable energy consultant with over a decade of experience in sustainable development projects across Europe.