The Story of Leonard and Hungry Paul Review: A Calming Series With Narration from Julia Roberts Brings the Perfect Antidote to Contemporary Living

In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person can be found on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the noise and fast pace of modern television offerings, this series steps in as a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated book – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people content to wander out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating a range of educational volumes for an employer who signs off messages saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, guide and ally during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured some food in record time, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear 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 a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding us throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as spending time with good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and let it in.