The off-kilter humour, the sweeping coastlines blanketed with purple heather, the terrible food… Watching The Incomer at Sundance Film Festival is the first time since moving to Utah that I’ve felt so homesick. Louis Paxton’s debut feature, which screened in Sundance’s NEXT section, is one of those rare dark comedies that surprises you with its warmth.
The Incomer is quirky, windswept, and proudly Scottish, filled with oddball characters saying even stranger things. It would be easy to dismiss this indie movie as too twee, too out-there. But those who understand something of the deep waters that run in and between these faraway isles will recognise that the absurdity stems from generations of folk stories and making light of the trauma.
The story is delightfully straightforward. Two siblings, Isla (Gayle Rankin) and Sandy (Grant O’Rourke), have spent thirty years in total isolation on a remote Scottish island, living somewhere off the northeast coast. They eat seagulls, dress like birds, fight like dogs, and tell the same stories day in and day out to stave off boredom. Oh, and should “incomers” ever infiltrate the island, they’re ready. The siblings spend their days punching makeshift sacks with “incomer” scribbled on and stand on the cliff edge menacingly looking out at the choppy waters.
Of course, that day arrives when Daniel (Domhnall Gleeson) steps off the dinghy. He’s a misunderstood, wizard-loving civil servant sent by the local government to “relocate” the siblings to the mainland. What follows is a slow clash of innocence and enlightenment, islanders and mainlanders, vegans and gull-ivores, blending elements of a folktale and a workplace comedy. (Don’t get me started on Daniel’s reimagining of The Lord of the Rings as ‘The Lord of the Local Authority’ – too funny). Paxton’s film playfully critiques modern life. Gleeson’s Daniel, awkward and earnest, perfectly balances the islanders’ naivety and eccentricity.
The production was quick and close-knit, filmed over 28 days in July and August 2025 in Wick and the north-east of Scotland. Paxton shared at the Sundance Q&A that he finished the final cut just a week before the festival. He spoke fondly of the community that welcomed the crew. It was worth filming in the summer for the peak heather season, long daylight hours and ever-so-slightly better weather. But hopefully the midges didn’t bother them too much.
Paxton handles his influences lightly. There are echoes of The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) – tiny islands, big emotions, and dark humour – but that might just be the Gleeson Effect. The childlike spirit of The Incomer resonates more with the cat-and-mouse playfulness of Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016). This timeline makes sense. Paxton stated he worked on The Incomer for approximately 10 years.
In this story, Daniel’s “going native” isn’t defeat, but liberation. His gradual shift from a defeated bureaucrat to a reluctant islander is one of the film’s most rewarding arcs. “The Way of the Gull” is a standout sequence, where Daniel decides to embrace the locals’ way of thinking via a spontaneous initiation trial – or at least their feather-clad outfits – is both funny and heartfelt, giving the film a warm emotional core.
The cast is uniformly excellent. Gleeson gives one of his best comic performances, finding sweetness beneath Daniel’s rigid politeness. Gayle Rankin’s Isla radiates intelligence and wit. She plays her quirkiness straight, never forcing laughs. Grant O’Rourke, as the perpetually wide-eyed Sandy, steals scenes with timing that feels practised. His joyful exclamation, ‘My mouth is alive!’ after eating a banana, and ‘Tell me more about variety, Daniel,’ which Sandy says earnestly, are stand-outs. His character captures the film’s tone – as silly as a floppy red dildo, sincere as a council member forcing you to move from the only home you’ve ever known.
John Hannah’s supporting role as the mysterious Fin Man is a treat, slightly menacing and too brief. It’s the kind of role that makes you wish there was more space for him in the film. Elsewhere, Michelle Gomez enjoys her scenes as the imperious local official. She layers playful malice and convinces as a born bureaucrat, someone who’s in politics for her own gain. I’m sure we can all relate.
Paxton’s visual style doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but he finds places to play. There are animated interludes sprinkled throughout, hand-drawn and slightly rough. They depict the islander’s own lore, which is partly based on traditional Scottish mythology but often invented for the film. Overall, The Incomer is visually stunning. Cinematographer Iain Forbes bathes the rugged, lush landscapes in silver light. The animated inserts and folk-art graphics add depth without being gimmicky, and help cement the film’s folkloric themes.
Paxton’s pacing can wander; he sometimes dwells on a joke just a bit too long or allows a scene to linger before the next burst of energy. He seems to lose his grasp on the seagulls in the third act. While necessary for the narrative, the “outsider” characters fall flat. However, the slightly haphazard rhythm fits the story. Like its characters, the film is charmingly out of sync with the surrounding world.
By the end, The Incomer is poignant yet hopeful. For a debut, it’s remarkably confident. Louis Paxton has tapped into something special: a distinctly Scottish version of magical realism that feels both local and universal. Must you assimilate, or can you surrender?
If you enjoy your comedies with a windswept vibe, warmth, and a hint of madness, The Incomer is one to add to your Watchlist.
