In a peaceful suburb of the city, an individual is standing on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his concerns. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”
For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, this series comes like a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.
Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part program created by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s understated story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly over its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those content to amble along away from attention. And yet. He (a further distinctly original performance by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the openings of my life … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the paths that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; creating a range of educational volumes for a boss who concludes emails using the words “ciao for now”).
Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, life coach and partner during their regular game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.
(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten in history. Perhaps he previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks by biting into them).
Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively colleague who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.
In another part during the opening installment of this program driven less by plot and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.
Leading the audience throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.
No more criticism for now. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as being with close companions.
Open the doors and windows in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.
