🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person stands outside his home, dressed in a vest and voicing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe swaying with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, this series arrives as a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its spectacles toward anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that directed him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off messages using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. Maybe he on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as uplifting as being alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.