🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of the city, a man can be found in his driveway, sporting a vest and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show arrives similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a six-part program developed by its authors, inspired by the author’s understated story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking disapprovingly above its eyewear toward anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those happy to wander away from attention. And yet. He (one more uniquely quirky turn by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off messages saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, guide and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded colleague who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading us throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as passing time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.