Director: Louis Paxton
Stars: Domhnall Gleeson, Gayle Rankin, Grant O’Rourke
The latest in a recent string of nicecore eccentric British and Irish comedy films one might conceivably call “quaint”, The Incomers begins with one of it’s chief protagonists talking about themselves in the third person. Referring to herself and her brother Sandy, Isla (Gayle Rankin) assures us “they weren’t odd; they were very normal” right before a classic smash-cut to exceedingly crazy behaviour. Sandy (Grant O’Rourke) and Isla are the last living residents of a remote crag off of the coast of Orkney where they’ve lived all their lives. With vegetation as scarce as the knowhow to cultivate it, their existences have becoming reliant on the gulls that nest on and circle the island. They eat them, call out to them, dress up as them… Their mandate for living was passed down by their now long-dead parents, who also warned them to show no mercy to ‘incomers’ – devilish tricksters from the mythic ‘mainland’.
Lo, a trickster enters their midst in the form of floppy-haired Daniel (Domhnall Gleeson), his own kind of oddball sent to issue an eviction notice on behalf of the North Eastern Scottish Council for whom he works. In the eyes of the state, Sandy and Isla are vagrants. Squatters who return nothing to the system (though they take nothing from it either). Daniel’s not used to customer-facing work, so it’s a little overwhelming when Sandy and Isla knock him out, truss him up and threaten to crack his skull open or throw him off a cliff.
Gradually, however, Daniel manages to curry their favour, with exotic tales of the marvels of the mainland (wi-fi) and his spurious reworking of the writings of Tolkien (The Lord of the Local Authority). So The Incomer ambles along at an unhurried and deeply unserious pace, happily promoting it’s central message of “we can all be friends”. As it trundles by, writer/director Louis Paxton half-glances at more substantive material. The darker side to Isla’s disquieting suicide ideation (involving John Hannah dressed as a seal ‘fin man’), or some kind of substantive stand against blinkered bureaucracy. There’s even something wry in Daniel’s rose-tinted naivety about the power of the system when framed against the islanders’ lingering, foolhardy belief in hand-me-down fables. Here everyone has their head in the clouds.
But, with these things in it’s peripheries, The Incomer seems staunchly against confronting or mining anything for greater insight or emotive potential. Everyone is admirably committed to the bit (and Sandy’s evident, immediate crush on Daniel is downright adorable), but the bit wholesale rejects notions of more serious thought. Paxton has cited Hunt for the Wilderpeople as a key influence and that’s readily appreciable. Affable, cosy silliness is the priority at all times. Paxton’s variety isn’t as instantly wearisome as Taika Waititi’s, but it is just as prone to whimsical detours like cute animated interludes, funny dances and quirky turns of phrase like referring to a shed stuffed with memorabilia as a “mystery hutch” or the Northern Lights as “the merry dancers”.
The central trio are gamely supported by Emun Elliott as Cal; a disgraced evictions officer with a Survivor complex which is comprehensively ridiculed and the always-sparkling Michelle Gomez, going back to her Green Wing glory days as middle-management pariah Roz. Gleeson seems in his element playing loose and silly, while Rankin is a sure thing (as anyone who watched GLOW can attest) and O’Rourke – who provided additional material – nabs most of the silliest lines. It’s a nice enough time that doesn’t get too cloying but you’ll have absolutely stopped thinking about it before the day is out.
The Lost Highway Hotel 