🔗 Share this article

In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, a person stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and expressing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” states the protagonist, gazing toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone exhausted by the noise and fast pace of modern television terrain, this series steps in as a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-episode comedy developed by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly above its eyewear at anything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander below the parapet. However. The character (one more uniquely quirky turn by the actor) feels restless. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the paths that directed him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; creating multiple educational volumes for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, guide and ally during their regular game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name is shrouded in mystery. Maybe the postal worker once ate a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and more by what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, just a bit, and let it in.