“A celebration of individuality and the value of the human condition, and one of the year’s most charming debuts.”

For those who choose to live on one of the countless little islands that make up the British Isles, life tends to move at its own steady, unhurried pace. It’s in these spots where you have no choice other than to just quietly observe the natural world as it rises to greet you, and where you become part of the mysterious rhythm that enshrouds these enchanting places. We’ve likely all considered abandoning everything and running away from society and embracing such a simple life – and for some people, they’re lucky enough to be born into it. This is something that Louis Paxton chooses to use as the impetus for The Incomer, his delightful directorial debut in which we are introduced to Isla and Sandy, a pair of siblings living on a remote isle somewhere off the coast of Scotland, where they are the only inhabitants, leading a peaceful and humble life, far from the mainland in terms of both distance and social connection. However, their sheltered existence is threatened by the arrival of “The Incomer”, a mysterious figure they assume is one of the many sent to challenge their way of life. He is simply Daniel, a government official who his colleagues refer to as a “funny wee onion”, and who has been sent to evict the siblings from the island. What he assumes to be a simple administrative task turns into something far more complex once he’s introduced to this eccentric duo, whose choice to live amidst nature initially bewilders him, until he sees the value in their unconventional way of life. An uproariously funny, heartwarming folktale infused with layers of sincerity and deadpan humour, The Incomer is a true delight, a celebration of individuality and the value of the human condition, and one of the year’s most charming debuts.

Despite its relatively small size and quaint appearance, The Incomer tackles quite a few subjects, ranging from the universally resonant to the profoundly timely. We can start with the broadest subject, which is the setting – there has always been a fascination with the British Isles and their mythology, with these idyllic, remote islands being the source of many intriguing fables, especially since we know so little about the people who occupied them over the thousands of years before they were colonised. This film isn’t exploring the history extensively, but instead uses the folklore embedded in these places to create a narrative that shows how history can shape not only one’s identity, but also their perspective. We follow the characters as they go about their daily routine, their lives seeming very simple but fulfilling for the most part. Then, after yet another invasion from an unwelcome visitor, they shift into defending their island by any means necessary, not realising that this peculiar visitor (who has the same goal as every other person they’ve chased off their island) is their key to actually seeing a different side of life. The film employs the classical “us vs. them” narrative trope, positioning the two parties as initially in opposition to one another, but who gradually find common ground. Isla and Sandy represent isolation and simplicity, while Daniel embodies modern life, representing technology and social norms. This film refuses to take a stance on one or the other, believing that both can exist in harmony when given the opportunity. Isolation has its merits – one can live removed from societal obligations, allowing for a kind of freedom and creativity that is not facilitated by the modern world. However, as with everything, it is all about balance, which this film explores with an abundance of well-earned sincerity and a lot of genuine humour.

A film like The Incomer is going to be guided not only by a strong story (and the accompanying writing – Paxton’s script is so witty and filled with so many nuances that we only notice their cumulative effect when the film reaches its final moments) but also by the performances, which are equally vital to the success of this story. The film is anchored by three tremendous performances, which work together to create these complex, engaging characters. Domhnall Gleeson is the most familiar of the trio, having already amassed an impressive body of work. However, despite steady appearances in a range of major properties, it’s his performances in smaller, more intimate projects that have always showcased his incredible skills. He’s not doing anything too different with the role of Daniel here, other than bringing that same sense of delightfully skittish charm to a character who did not need to be this eternally likeable to succeed, especially since he starts as an antagonistic figure before evolving into a more empathetic presence. It does help tremendously that Gayle Rankin and Grant O’Rourke – who play the siblings – are just as strong, matching Gleeson almost beat-for-beat with their own wildly different performances that somehow blend in perfectly with his. A film like this hinges on the relationship the audience forms with the characters, and while they’re all oddballs in their own way, the film goes to extraordinary lengths to underline their deep humanity, highlighting the perfect blend of awkwardness and unconventional charm on which the entire film is constructed. The counterbalance of personalities, coupled with the organic chemistry, only further enriches the magical chaos that defines this film, transforming what could be contrived encounters into heartfelt, funny and unexpectedly poignant exchanges.

While we can obviously celebrate the stellar work being done by the cast, we do realise that it is ultimately Paxton’s ability to weave all these elements together that makes The Incomer so incredibly effective. The director is well-equipped to blend comedy and pathos to create something both sincere and wickedly entertaining. The film is built on a firm foundation of absurdity, drawing not only from the eccentric folklore of the British Isles but also its own unique narrative approach that is steeped heavily in magical realism. These more abstract elements intermingle with the earnest, genuine emotional resonance, creating a fascinating co-existence between ideas on which the film structures many of its most poignant moments. It can be quite direct with its messaging, particularly the conflict between tradition and modernity and the proverbial tug-of-war between these characters as they attempt to justify their chosen way of life, but we can overlook slightly overwrought delivery when everything that surrounds it is so effortlessly charming, never coming across as forced or sentimental beyond what was needed to communicate its core themes. This approach allows for some poignant exchanges around loneliness and grief (two vital concepts to unlocking the nuances of all three central characters), and the underlying fear of change that they all exhibit is interwoven meaningfully throughout the film, told through a steady, assured lens of natural humour which oscillates between heartwarming and deadpan. The director supplements these moments with sporadic additions of fantastical creatures (including the recurring Mr Fin Man, who appears throughout the film) and some beautiful animated sequences that elevate the film by reflecting the complex inner worlds of these characters. All of this ultimately functions to allow for a specific kind of meditation on the part of the viewer – we’re compelled to look at this outrageous story and revel in the absurdity, while reflecting on the deeper emotional truths under the surface, which makes for a wonderfully engaging and layered work.

As a film that celebrates life’s small mysteries and simplest joys, The Incomer is a very special creation. It builds itself around a poetic and upbeat story of human bonds and the freedom of imagination, showing the unspoken connections that bind us together. Its happy-go-lucky tone conceals a deeper, more vulnerable heart that lends this peculiar little film a sense of authenticity that would be difficult to mimic. At its core, this is a soulful, life-affirming folk comedy about embracing individuality and allowing imagination to run free, since it can form unexpected human connections – the charm lies in its deep irreverence to the status quo, which works with the gentle humour and profound warmth that comes with weaving such a compelling portrait of ordinary people navigating isolation and the inevitability of change. The joy of disconnecting from modern pressures and finding wonder in small, magical moments that no technology could ever engineer is central to this film, which may not be a fervent celebration of the Luddite lifestyle (although it does make the idea of living in blissful ignorance awfully appealing), but shows the incredible value in setting the screens to the side and instead embracing life as it comes to us. As a film that emphasises humanity over spectacle, every character-based moment is relatable and grounded in a lived-in experience, leaving the audience thoroughly entertained and enchanted by this delightful story that depicts folklore and the modern world co-existing seamlessly, becoming an engaging celebration of life and the beauty of taking flight whenever the opportunity arises.