In a quiet suburb of the city, a man stands outside his home, sporting a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”
For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, this series arrives similar to a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.
In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-part show written by the writing duo, adapted from the author’s subtle story – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering skeptically over its eyewear on everything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around below the parapet. But. Leonard (one more distinctly original portrayal by the actor) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off emails with the phrase “see you later”).
Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.
(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that Paul once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks using his teeth).
Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the actress), a recent energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.
Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.
Shepherding viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.
Enough complaining for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in life as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.
Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and let it in.
