🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of the Irish capital, a man can be found on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the main character, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, the show arrives similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering critically through its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to amble along below the parapet. But. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) feels restless. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the openings of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; creating several educational volumes for a man who ends correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his confidante, guide and co-conspirator in a recurring game night which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and more by what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism currently. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as heartening as spending time alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.