In a calm suburb of the city, a man is standing in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the main character, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only and only friend, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”
For those exhausted by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.
Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; peering critically over its eyewear at anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating a range of kids' reference books for a boss who concludes emails using the words “see you later”).
Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, guide and partner in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.
(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).
Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the performer), a new energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.
In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.
Shepherding us through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.
Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is in life as uplifting as being with good friends.
Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and let it in.
Elara is a seasoned betting analyst with over a decade of experience in sports gambling and data-driven strategy development.
Joyce Gomez
Joyce Gomez
Joyce Gomez