Compare The Incomer vs It Follows

The darker dramatic material can feel mismatched with the lighter comedy, particularly when supporting subplots push the film toward a more extreme register.

The pursuit has emotional weight because the danger feels personal to Jay and the friends trying to protect her.

The practical and creature effects fit the film’s handmade folktale aesthetic and are praised as a strong craft element.

The handmade and digital effects can look unusually polished for the budget. Other responses find the physical attacks average or cartoonishly unconvincing.

Violence is mostly stylized and comic, but the sudden third-act escalation can feel disjointed from the warmer tone rather than satisfyingly intense.

Restraint around blood is generally welcomed, and one account praises the gore as convincing and appropriately used. The opening’s mangled corpse is also singled out as deeply upsetting.

Isla and the sibling bond receive meaningful emotional layering, but Daniel and especially Sandy can feel underdeveloped in weaker stretches. The character work is strongest when loneliness and changing relationships take precedence over quirks.

Jay generally emerges more clearly than her friends. Several accounts find the supporting teens thinly drawn or miss fuller character arcs.

The practical-effects work is praised as a tactile part of the film’s handmade folklore aesthetic.

The handmade approach adds appeal, and the practical gore has convincing moments. These details help the horror feel tangible without depending entirely on digital spectacle.

The film walks a difficult line between whimsy, tenderness, and darker folklore. At its best the balance feels controlled; at its weakest, violence and sincere trauma arrive too abruptly beside the twee comedy.

Controlled camera movement, music, and a dreamlike setting often create a unified nightmare. Abrupt music cues or conflicts between literal rules and abstraction can disrupt that cohesion.

The route from hostility to connection is often predictable and follows familiar outsider-story beats. The execution, performances, and folklore details are what keep that familiar structure engaging.

The sexually transmitted pursuit refreshes familiar slasher conventions for many viewers. Others see a clever hook surrounded by recognizable homages or missed possibilities.

The recurring sex-toy gag is a clear taste test: it can play as absurdly funny or as another example of the film pushing its cutesy raunch too hard.

The sexual material is often valued for serving the story rather than titillation, and the nudity can add menace. One response finds the sexualized attack repellently unpleasant.

The ending generally restores the film’s emotional footing, with self-acceptance and earned change landing well. A few reactions note a slight late decline before the final payoff.

The ending is the largest point of division: some love its uneasy ambiguity, while others feel the film stops without a proper payoff. The pool confrontation is similarly called inventive by some and miscalculated by others.

The romance is divisive: Isla’s tentative awakening can be touching and funny, but the love-triangle mechanics are also called thin and unconvincing.

The final pairing can feel tender and chilling at once, or like a reluctant survival arrangement without real chemistry. Its uncertainty is central to the ending’s different readings.

The central trio’s rapport is one of the film’s safest strengths, with lively banter and convincing warmth. The romantic pairing is less consistently persuasive than the broader group dynamic.

The teenagers often feel like an existing circle of friends rather than a collection of horror victims. The final romantic pairing receives a much less convincing reading.

The score is highly taste-dependent. Its folk-inflected, quirky textures can deepen the island atmosphere, but the plucky strings and horns sometimes feel overly insistent.

The synth-heavy score is one of the film’s most praised elements, sustaining dread and giving the images force. Its volume, repeated buildups, and occasional jarring cues can also become overbearing.

The story is broadly seen as a sweet, strange fable about isolation, grief, and connection. Its emotional sincerity wins over many viewers even when the plot follows familiar paths.

A simple pursuit becomes a gripping nightmare when its sexual and moral implications connect. The limited premise can also feel stretched or underdeveloped by the final act.

The fairy-tale framing gives the story license to bend reality, but some gags and the mechanics of decades-long island survival strain credibility even within that mode.

Believable teenage reactions and familiar locations often ground the nightmare. Decisions around the boyfriend, boat, and pool also draw substantial plausibility complaints.

As an adult folk-comedy fable, the film is distinctive and often charming, though its aggressively quaint side can overwhelm viewers resistant to twee humor.

Most responses value the film as a fresh, atmospheric horror experience. Its effectiveness depends on whether sustained unease is enough without frequent shocks or a clear resolution.

The late action works best when physical comedy and genuine emotion share the same scene, giving the finale energy without abandoning the film’s eccentric tone.

Confrontations can be tense and inventive, especially when the friends fight together. The physical attacks and pool plan also draw complaints about awkward effects and weak logic.

The siblings’ verbal sparring is sharp and absurd while remaining emotionally sincere, helping the strange behavior feel internally believable.

The conversations flow naturally and avoid turning the mumblecore influence into empty inanity.

Scare beats work best as brief pressure points before the comedy releases the tension, letting the film flirt with folk horror without becoming a full horror experience.

The strongest scares let danger approach in plain sight and leave the audience scanning for it. Some find this exceptionally frightening, while others miss stronger shocks or find the visible forms unconvincing.

Beneath the silliness, the film often lands as tender and unexpectedly moving, especially around grief, loneliness, and human connection. A few takes find the emotional foundation too light for the darker turns.

The film repeatedly leaves a lingering sense of dread, with some finding it difficult to shake afterward. Its quieter final images can also be moving.

The film’s strongest message concerns fear of change, inherited stories, self-acceptance, and the need for connection. Even mixed reactions often find that hopeful core worthwhile.

The sexual commentary is praised for reaching beyond a simple abstinence message into more complicated questions about relationships and harm.

A few logistical details around the authorities’ delayed response do not add up cleanly, creating small gaps in an otherwise easy-to-follow setup.

The basic curse can be introduced cleanly, but the later rules and offscreen events leave substantial uncertainty. That ambiguity is either a strength or a source of frustration.

The screenplay earns praise for emotional grounding, character affection, and oddball consistency, but repetition and underdeveloped characters expose weaknesses in the longer format.

The script earns praise for a fresh concept, thematic layers, and intelligent restraint. Thin characterization, pretentious touches, and underexplored possibilities temper that approval.

Momentum is uneven: several responses flag repetition, overlong detours, or a loss of steam after the first hour. Others find the comic action brisk enough to keep the film moving.

Slow movement and long takes give the threat time to become frightening. Repeated pursuit scenes and stretches of inactivity also make the film drag for some viewers.

Paxton’s direction is widely admired for visual control, straight-faced handling of absurdity, and gentle fable-like texture. Some see first-feature growing pains and occasional over-stylization.

Patient framing and controlled reveals make a tiny premise feel threatening across whole scenes. Complaints focus on muddled rules, a few silly choices, and whether the buildup earns its resolution.

The unlikely bond between Daniel and the siblings is handled with genuine affection, making companionship and chosen connection feel central rather than incidental.

Jay’s friends stay close and help even when they cannot see the threat. Their loyalty gives the otherwise bleak story warmth and a welcome sense of collective effort.

Suspense works in bursts, especially cliffside danger and early confrontations, and often pairs well with comedy. The bureaucratic threat itself is less consistently urgent.

Distant figures, long holds, and uncertain safe spaces build a nearly constant sense of approach. This sustained tension is widely admired even when the scares or plot disappoint.

The Scottish setting is photographed with striking natural beauty, from verdant landscapes and cold coastlines to intimate natural-light interiors. Even negative takes regularly single out the imagery.

Wide compositions, slow pans, and distant approaching figures make viewers search the whole frame. The photography draws exceptional praise even from critics disappointed by the story.

Themes of loneliness, inherited fear, belonging, grief, and change give the comedy real substance. Some takes find those ideas underexplored or too surface-level, but the emotional intent is consistently clear.

Sex, adulthood, mortality, and intimacy give the pursuit several possible meanings. Some find the layers rich and coherent; others see obvious symbolism or ideas the film never develops.

Editing choices are used effectively for comic timing and tension, especially concise cuts and focal-length-driven sequences. The craft is stronger than the screenplay’s repetitive stretches.

Measured cutting and sustained takes usually support the creeping threat. Some transitions and perspective changes raise questions about continuity or narrative purpose.

Comedy is the film’s most polarizing trait. Many find the deadpan, physical, culture-clash absurdity hilarious, while others call the jokes repetitive, juvenile, or overly quirky.

Natural exchanges and occasional visual gags add welcome levity without breaking the underlying dread.

The creature makeup and prosthetics give the Fin Man a memorable, menacing seal-like appearance and are singled out as impressive craft work.

The makeup is praised as convincing and appropriately used alongside the film’s other effects.

At 102 minutes, the film feels overextended to some, with repeated beats and an elongated climax making a tighter cut seem preferable.

Several responses feel the premise could work better with fewer lingering or unnecessary scenes. The boat detour and slow early passages are recurring examples.

The film is explicitly recommended as worth seeing, with its humor and feel-good quality supporting a positive sense of ticket value.

A theatrical visit is considered worthwhile by an enthusiastic response. Another feels the unresolved ending wastes the time and emotion invested.

Most responses find the film easy to enjoy, watchable, and warmly entertaining, with a handful of detractors who never connect with its style. Its strongest entertainment value comes from the cast and oddball comedy.

For receptive viewers, the film remains absorbing despite its patient approach. Repetition, thin plotting, and an unresolved payoff leave others lukewarm or bored.

The island feels like its own peculiar ecosystem, built from folklore, rituals, geography, and visual contrast with the mainland. That specificity is central to the film’s distinctive identity.

Mixed eras, absent adults, and uncertain rules create an effective dream world for many viewers. Others find the monster’s mechanics too inconsistent or too thinly explained.

The handmade bird ritual costumes are a standout craft element, giving the siblings’ folklore a memorable physical identity.

The clothing reinforces both the working-class surroundings and the deliberately uncertain period. Its eclectic mix contributes to the film’s unusual setting.

The island cottage is a particularly strong piece of production design, feeling lived-in and organically tied to the siblings’ isolated life.

Old televisions, mixed-era cars, unusual devices, and depopulated Detroit spaces create an unsettling world outside a fixed time. A few viewers find that deliberate uncertainty distracting.

Natural color, rugged scenery, animation, and carefully composed interiors create a vivid storybook look without making the island feel glossy or artificial.

The saturated, wide-screen imagery is frequently described as beautiful and artistically assured. Its dreamlike look can remain impressive even when the narrative disappoints.

Natural wind, birds, and crashing water are captured vividly, giving the island an elemental presence that often works better than the busier musical cues.

Unsettling noises, footsteps, bass, and carefully placed silence make the threat feel persistent. Sound helps put viewers on edge before anything overt happens.

Its eccentricity is the dividing line: some see broad, crowd-pleasing charm, while others find the twee, overt weirdness alienating. Viewers already fond of offbeat indie comedy are the clearest fit.

The deliberate, unresolved approach can inspire admiration without emotional engagement. Viewers expecting broad reassurance or a tidy payoff may feel kept at a distance.

The brooding, unnerving soundtrack is an important part of the film’s sensory identity, adding a darker current beneath the comedy.

The electronic music gives the film a memorable retro identity and considerable listening appeal. Some find its constant presence or repeated rises too intrusive.

Gleeson’s lead comic work is a highlight, with his committed awkwardness and willingness to join the islanders’ rituals making Daniel especially watchable.

Maika Monroe usually earns praise for conveying authentic fear, vulnerability, and desperation. A minority response finds her competent rather than memorable.

The supporting cast is described as strong, adding sharp energy around the central trio without becoming the main attraction.

The supporting actors usually make the friends likable and their concern believable. Some viewers find the ensemble solid but lacking a memorable standout.

The ensemble is a major strength: the three leads repeatedly make the oddball material feel committed, funny, and emotionally grounded. Even more skeptical takes tend to praise the cast.

The mostly unfamiliar cast makes the teenage group feel believable and easy to care about. One less enthusiastic response finds everyone competent but lacking a standout.

The approaching threat gives growing older and confronting mortality an unsettling physical form. The score and themes make that connection work beyond the immediate monster story.

The hand-drawn animation is consistently praised for turning the island’s folklore into a storybook world. Several responses wanted even more of it.

Long views of quiet streets and the possibility of danger anywhere create the film’s most consistently praised strength. The oppressive, dreamlike dread often lasts beyond the ending.

The curse’s connection to intimate contact makes its psychological body horror especially potent and chilling.

The unfamiliar faces help the teenagers feel ordinary while still delivering memorable performances.

Responses range from cartoonish and distracting to surprisingly convincing for the budget. The digitally assisted physical attacks are the main point of disagreement.

Working-class houses and costumes give the Detroit setting a welcome distinction from more affluent teen-horror neighborhoods.

The Carpenter-era atmosphere and familiar horror compositions are often affectionate and effective. Other responses see borrowed scenes or familiar conventions limiting the film’s originality.

The curse creates uncomfortable questions about consent, deception, and sacrificing someone else for survival. Some find those dilemmas powerful; others think the film underexplores them or gives Jay inconsistent choices.

The photography, electronic music, and direction combine into a coherent experience, with each creative element strengthening the others.

The film’s Scottish identity comes through in its locations, folklore, talent, and satire of local bureaucracy. Its cultural specificity helps ground an otherwise fanciful story.

The father’s inherited rules give the siblings’ isolation emotional weight, but the parental trauma beneath those rules is not explored as deeply as it could be.

Threatening space around the characters turns the frame itself into a source of unease. The compositions receive unusually strong praise.

The emphasis on dread over gore is a reason to recommend the film, although the material still includes disturbing imagery.

Natural-looking interiors, dusk, daylight, and saturated color make familiar places feel unsafe. The lighting is repeatedly credited with strengthening both realism and unease.

The Detroit locations feel lived in rather than built for the camera. Their abandoned spaces make the threat more immediate.

The unknown pursuer sustains curiosity without a complete explanation. Its unresolved nature is valued when it deepens the fear rather than simply withholding information.

The opening establishes danger and dread before explaining the premise. Its patient staging and sudden aftermath repeatedly make a strong first impression.

The literary passages can feel pretentious, though the classroom poem is also valued for echoing the threat of aging and death.

Jay is welcomed as an ordinary young woman whose sexuality is not treated as deserving punishment. The film’s handling of sexual harm also supports a more thoughtful reading.

The relentless pursuit offers a resonant way to visualize trauma that other people cannot directly see. The interpretation emphasizes its persistence after the initial violation.

The aftermath of deception gives sexual harm emotional weight beyond a simple question of consent. The pursuing entity also supports interpretations centered on the persistence of trauma.

The group’s willingness to work together is welcome, but its actual choices are sharply disputed. Reactions to the boyfriend and attempts to fight the entity often strain belief.

The relentless, unknowable pursuer can be terrifying precisely because its motives remain obscure. Critics find its conspicuous disguises and inconsistent behavior squander that potential.

The loyal, relatively ordinary teens give the audience people worth rooting for. Some find the stock characterization and illogical decisions erode that attachment.

The synth music, grainy look, and older technology evoke seventies and eighties horror with considerable appeal. The retro style feels especially effective when it supports the fear.

Keeping familiar current technology out of reach supports the mystery and prevents easy solutions. The device choices help the setting feel deliberately unmoored from the present.

The blunt title is admired for stating the threat with pitiless precision.

Ordinary human forms can make the pursuer exceptionally unnerving. Critics of the design find the naked or visibly strange disguises too conspicuous to sustain uncertainty.

Claims of unprecedented scariness raise expectations several viewers feel the film cannot meet. The hype can diminish an otherwise worthwhile experience.

Glimpses of an ordinary-looking figure can sustain uncertainty. Showing the threat’s physical interactions, especially under a sheet at the pool, can instead weaken its mystique.

The ambitious camera work, restrained effects, and coherent vision make the small production feel larger and more polished than expected.

Background details and layered themes reward returning to the film. Repeat viewers report both lasting enjoyment and meanings they missed the first time.