🔗 Share this article

In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual stands outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show comes as a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program developed by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly over its spectacles at anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around away from attention. But. The character (one more distinctly original portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the paths that have brought him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, guide and partner in a weekly board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food very fast, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as heartening as passing time alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.