The alien in Allen (now on Netflix) looks like Dobby crossed with the animatronic grotesquerie from Mac and Me, and one hopes that’s intentional. This wackadoo Australian comedy, which feints at being a satire of E.T., stems from the brain of Daley Pearson, notably a key member of the production team behind smash-hit animated series Bluey. Whether any of that series’ charm rubs off on this movie is the question.

ALLEN: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT? 

The Gist: Friendship bracelets would’ve been easier, but you know what they say about hindsight. When Petey was a kid (played by Edward A. O’Sullivan), romping around with his Ninja Turtles in the 1990s, he was visited by a little flop-eared doof from outer space who he named Allen. They played Jenga and ate Cheezels, and Petey captured it all on videotape — including Allen’s healing and levitation powers — before the dude had to hop in his egg-shaped vessel and vamoose back to his home planet. During the sad goodbye, the BFFs touched hands, leaving corresponding circular scars on their palms that look a lot like ringworm. Awww? But also, ick?

A few decades later, adult Petey (T.J. Power) has not revealed the existence of extraterrestrials to the world at large, because that’s not the plot of the movie. Rather, he’s stuck in a state of arrested development, sadly, desperately, pathetically pining for a reunion with Allen. He lives in the basement of his brother and sister-in-law’s house, sitting behind a bank of gear, sending homing signals into space. His only friend is a 10-year-old kid (Elijah Tamati). He crushes on Sarah (Emily Barclay), a cop in their little seaside town, but she’s engaged to her coworker Rory (Benedict Hardie), a strict cretin who’s pegged as the villain right away because his demeanor, haircut and mustache are one degree of separation from Adolf H. Actually, let’s just say A. Hitler.

There wouldn’t be much of a movie if Allen didn’t return. On second thought, that movie might be more interesting than what we’ve got here. Anyway, yes, Allen returns, and it’s a happy reunion until a truth comes to light that I won’t reveal here. A truth, mind you, that hints at another version of the movie that might’ve been more interesting, instead of the wacky dress-the-alien-up-in-human-clothes and chase-through-the-carnival sequences that comprise the third act. All of which indicates that this movie isn’t sure what it wants to be.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of? Paul found Simon Pegg and Nick Frost also struggling to render a similar sideways premise memorable.

Performance Worth Watching: Hardie’s somewhat funnyish quasi-fascist shtick is the movie’s only memorable character, so he gets this honor by default. 

Our Take: It’s only about 17 percent of a spoiler to say bits of Allen nod provocatively toward Alien, body horror and all. So again, there’s a better movie lurking within premise, which finds Pearson, co-directing with Jeffrey Walker and co-writing with Sophie Miller, unsuccessfully attempting to appeal to youth and adult audiences. The movie’s heavy with the syrupy sentiment of family-friendly schlock, which gums up any attempts to satirize the E.T. formula or take a hard left turn into dark-comedy territory. It seems to want to be something better, funnier, more provocative, but lacks the nerve to make it so.

And what we’re left with is something a little less than shrugworthy, with a marked dearth of decent dialogue and engaging characters. Some compelling subtext — about nostalgia and aging, or even a rumination on relative morality, and yes, I’m leaving that purposely vague — is abandoned for shallow, predictable and repetitive treacle spiced with a couple of weird grossout bits and the occasional goofy laugh. I chuckled during a moment when Allen begs to stop at McDonald’s, a clear and obvious jab at notorious disasterpiece Mac and Me — which had me wondering if Allen would be a far more entertaining watch if it had the cojones to be that terrible.

Our Call: E.T. go home. Please. SKIP IT.

John Serba is a freelance film critic from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Werner Herzog hugged him once.