‘The Incomer’ Review – Finding Friends In Unexpected Ways [Sundance 2026]

From the very beginning, The Incomer makes it clear that it isn’t interested in taking itself extremely seriously; there is lots of absurdity, and a very specific sense of place. Louis Paxton’s debut feature takes a potentially grim setup of two siblings living in isolation for decades after their parents vanished and reframes it as something warm and sincere.

Set on a remote Scottish island battered by wind and myth, the film centers on Isla (Gayle Rankin) and Sandy (Grant O’Rourke), siblings who have lived entirely apart from the modern world for nearly 30 years. They hunt seabirds for survival, speak casually about mythical creatures, and fiercely protect their land from “incomers,” a word spoken with the same dread others reserve for monsters. Their routines are strange, their logic circular, and their worldview shaped by isolation so complete that adulthood never quite arrived.

That fragile ecosystem is disrupted when Daniel (Domhnall Gleeson) arrives. He is an awkward land recovery coordinator sent by the mainland to relocate the siblings. One of the siblings hurls a rock at his head, knocking him unconscious, and the movie cuts straight to the title card. 

Domhnall Gleeson is perfectly cast as Daniel, a man whose politeness and discomfort make him stand out like a sore thumb. He’s deeply out of place on the island, stumbling through conversations, desperately trying to explain government procedures to people who aren’t willing to listen. Gleeson’s comedic instincts are sharp, particularly in how he speaks and uses body language. Daniel is never smug or superior; if anything, he’s more frightened than the people he’s meant to displace.

Opposite him, Gayle Rankin and Grant O’Rourke are entirely believable as siblings who have grown up without the outside world. Isla and Sandy don’t behave like adults because, emotionally speaking, they never had the chance to become them. Their understanding of danger and intimacy feels childlike, shaped by stories and superstition rather than experience. Rankin and O’Rourke capture that dynamic beautifully, bouncing off each other with a familiarity that feels lived-in.

Rankin, in particular, is the film’s emotional center. Isla is fierce, suspicious, imaginative, and deeply afraid of losing the only life she’s ever known. Rankin balances comedy and vulnerability with impressive control. Even when Isla behaves irrationally, like threatening violence or talking to creatures no one else can see, her fear always feels believable. 

The Scottish island setting is used to great effect. The land itself becomes a character, reinforcing the siblings’ resistance to change. Paxton allows the environment to shape the rhythm of the film, giving scenes room to breathe and letting silence do some of the storytelling. It’s easy to understand why Isla and Sandy believe the island is alive; it certainly feels that way.

Paxton’s direction leans fully into whimsy. There are splashes of pencil-drawn animation whenever tales by the siblings are spoken, mythical creatures woven casually into daily life, and moments of deadpan surrealism. The humor is broad at times, but rarely cynical. It treats their beliefs with sincerity, even when they’re absurd.

One of the more intriguing elements is the Finman, a mythological sea creature who appears to Isla and Isla alone, attempting to lure her into the water. The Finman represents temptation, grief, and escape, the pull of disappearing rather than confronting change. It’s a compelling idea, but one the film doesn’t explore as deeply as it could. While the Finman’s presence adds texture, his role in Isla’s inner life remains severely underdeveloped, fading into the background just as it begins to feel psychologically meaningful.

Where The Incomer succeeds most is in the chemistry between its three leads. As Daniel gradually earns Isla and Sandy’s trust, sharing meals, explaining concepts like the internet, and telling tales of his own, the film finds genuine warmth. These interactions are funny, but also moving. All three characters are isolated in different ways, and the story gently suggests that connection doesn’t require sameness, only openness.

The film’s emotional high point arrives through conversation. A simple exchange about belonging reveals how deeply loneliness has shaped each of them. Daniel’s life on the mainland is presented as merely different. The film resists the idea that modernity equals progress, instead asking whether displacement, even for safety, is ever so simple.

Narratively, the film is fairly predictable. The arc follows a familiar trajectory, and few developments come as genuine surprises. You can see most emotional beats coming well before they arrive. Yet Paxton’s charm and tonal confidence make that predictability easy to forgive. The pleasure of the film lies less in where it’s going and more in how comfortably it inhabits its strange little world.

As a debut feature, The Incomer is remarkably assured. It’s not trying to reinvent folklore or satire, but it blends them with a warmth that feels increasingly rare. Beneath the silliness and mythical flourishes is a story about grief, stagnation, and the terror of being forced to grow up long after childhood should have ended.

It may not dig as deeply into its mythology as it promises, and it won’t surprise seasoned viewers structurally, but The Incomer remains an enjoyable, funny, and heartfelt experience. Anchored by strong performances, especially a standout turn from Gayle Rankin, and guided by a director with a clear voice, it’s a film that understands change is frightening, connection is messy, and sometimes the hardest thing to leave behind is the place that once kept you safe.

The Incomer had its World Premiere in the NEXT section of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. 

Director: Louis Paxton

Writer: Louis Paxton

Rated: NR

Runtime: 102m