Leonard and Hungry Paul Analysis: A Gentle Series With Narration from the Hollywood Star Offers the Perfect Cure to Today's World

In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” states the main character, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming landscape, this series steps in as a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by its authors, based on the author’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (another distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a creeping “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing multiple educational volumes for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a diversion?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.