In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe moving gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”
For anyone weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, this series comes like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.
Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly through its eyewear at anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around below the parapet. However. Leonard (a further distinctly original turn from the star) feels restless. He feels an increasing “need to open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; creating multiple kids' reference books for a man who ends correspondence saying “ciao for now”).
Thus Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally in a recurring gaming session that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.
(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in history. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).
Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a recent spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.
Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.
Leading viewers amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.
No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as spending time with close companions.
Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and let it in.
A tech journalist and gaming enthusiast with over a decade of experience covering digital trends and innovations.