In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person stands on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only companion, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”
For viewers tired by the chaos and fast pace of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.
In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program developed by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s quiet story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people content to pootle around below the parapet. But. The character (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) feels restless. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the decisions which led him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; working on a range of kids' reference books for a boss who concludes messages using the words “ciao for now”).
Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and ally during their regular gaming session which acts as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.
(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).
Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a new lively co-worker who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.
In other scenes in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.
Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.
But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as cheering as passing time in the company of close companions.
Unlock the entryways within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.
