🔗 Share this article

In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a person is standing in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, this series arrives like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; looking critically over its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing several educational volumes for a boss who concludes messages using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a recurring gaming session functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Perhaps he previously devoured some food very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the actress), a new lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is in life as cheering as spending time with good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, a little, and allow it entry.