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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, an individual is standing in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe moving with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, this series steps in similar to a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program developed by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to disturbances, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those happy to wander below the parapet. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a growing “need to open the openings within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for a man who ends messages using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly game night functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (the performer), a recent lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as spending time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, a little, and allow it entry.