🔗 Share this article

In a quiet suburb of the city, an individual stands outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-part program created by its authors, adapted from the author’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking critically through its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. He (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … a little.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the choices which led him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for a man who ends emails using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular game night that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the performer), a recent energetic colleague who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as passing time with good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.