🔗 Share this article

In a calm suburb of Dublin, a person is standing outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the noise and fast pace of current streaming terrain, the show steps in like a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-episode comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; looking skeptically through its eyewear on everything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to amble along out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes questioning the paths that have brought him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; writing several kids' reference books for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, mentor and partner in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe he once ate a snack in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a new lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s might call “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.