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In a calm area of the city, a man is standing outside his home, dressed in a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy written by the writing duo, based on the author’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its spectacles at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander away from attention. However. He (a further distinctly original turn by the actor) feels restless. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the paths which led him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who signs off correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a recurring gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that Paul previously devoured a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the performer), a recent spring-loaded colleague who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being with good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.