Leonard and the Hungry Ball review – This comedy narrated by Julia Roberts is the perfect antidote to modern life | television

HeyIn a well-maintained lane in an unremarkable suburb of Dublin, a young man in a sleeveless jacket expresses a desire to expand his horizons. “I feel like I’m getting quieter,” Leonard says, blinking up at the night sky. “More invisible.” “One thing has led to another, and now I feel that if I do nothing I will continue with this…” – searching for an apt summary of his life – “…a simple and harmless existence.” Hungry Paul – Leonard’s best, and only, friend – considers the implications of this announcement. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he replied, his bathrobe fluttering pensively in the breeze. “Better than trying to leave a mark on the world and then ending up tarnishing it.”

For those exhausted by the menace and chatter of today’s television terrain, here’s Leonard and the Hungry Bull with a foil blanket and a warm cup of Ribena.

Like its innocent heroes, Leonard and the Hungry Ball – a six-part comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson based on Ronan Hession’s 2019 minimalist novel – takes a bleak view of modern life; He stares disapprovingly through his prematurely middle-aged spectacles at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements, or an abundance of ambition. The series is an ode to introversion. A quiet celebration of those content to wander below the barrier. And yet. Leonard (another very special turn from Alex “The End of the F***ing World/Andor” Lawther) is unstable. He feels a “creeping need to open the doors and windows of my life… a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the rug out from under his shoes, and now the 32-year-old ghost writer finds himself questioning the choices that got him where he is (a bachelor, with a defensive mustache, working on a set of children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs emails with “Ciao for now”).

And so Leonard sets out on a quest for emotional fulfillment, with the more daring, if no less socially awkward, hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his best friend, life coach, and partner in a weekly board game night that serves as both seminar (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or Do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why Paul is “hungry”? I have no idea. The etymology of the nickname seems to have been lost in the mists of time. Perhaps a postal worker once ate a sandwich with unusual speed, or responded to a socially charged incident by frantically peeling four Scotch eggs with his teeth.)

In Leonard’s sweet world, Shelley (Jamie Lee “Dire Girls” O’Donnell), a free-spirited new colleague who cheerfully offers to kill Leonard’s horrific boss (Paul Reed) during an office firefighting drill. That ringing sound you can hear is Leonard’s sweet world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series that doesn’t rely on plot so much as what people under 30 call “vibes,” we meet Hungry Bull’s father (the always wonderful Lorcan Kranjic), a man who secretly watches, records, and then reruns daytime quiz shows to impress his beloved wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us through all this simple kindness is a narrator who sounds a lot like Julia Roberts, even a lot like her. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you’re thinking, “Surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show’s unflashy presentation style, and initially only serves as a distraction?” You will be right. However, Roberts does it well, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a brave face” help ensure that early skepticism gives way if not entirely to appreciation, then at least to acceptance.

But that’s enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Bull’s heart is in the right place: the right place is “sitting on a park bench next to the scouts, pointing out his favorite duck.” It is a series that wanders around in its sleeveless jacket, sometimes looking up at the stars, sometimes down at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world more cheerful than spending time in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life a little, and let her in.