In 1977, NASA launched two interstellar probes into space, each containing a golden record that catalogued life on Earth—including images of sheet music and a mother breastfeeding, songs by Mozart and Chuck Berry, and greetings in 55 languages. In Syfy’s Resident Alien, based on the comic book series by Peter Hogan and Steve Parkhouse, a cosmic traveler crash-lands on Earth and, trying to blend in, learns what he can about the planet—not through a carefully curated introduction to humanity, but with a homespun self-education. He picks up human speech, for example, by watching and parroting the characters from TV shows like Law & Order, developing a healthy appreciation for Jerry Orbach and hammy one-liners.
Via flashbacks, we learn that Dr. Harry Vanderspeigle (Alan Tudyk), as the alien comes to be known, was flying over Earth on a mission to eradicate humankind when lightning struck his ship, marooning him on our planet. He killed and assumed the identity of the real Dr. Vanderspeigle, and now hunkers down in a lakeside cabin, venturing out only to scour Colorado’s snow-coated mountains for his missing weapon of mass destruction.
Harry is shocked out of isolation in the first episode, when the town doctor, Sam, suddenly dies, and he’s called upon to perform the autopsy. With signs pointing to foul play, Harry gets roped into a murder investigation, giving him plenty of opportunities to mimic Orbach and other crime show stars by announcing revelations with a jutted jaw and dramatic head turns. Tudyk brings a delectable eccentricity to his role, speaking in stilted rhythms and peppering his dialogue with awkward, stiff-armed gestures fit for a being inhabiting a new body.
Harry’s mechanical theatricality, aloof bluntness, and speech—rife with confused homonyms, mangled idioms, and wonky phrasings—throw people off. “He murdered himself,” Harry says after his initial assessment of Sam’s cadaver, causing Sam’s colleague and close friend, Asta Twelvetrees (Sara Tomko), to raise a confused eyebrow, taken aback by both the choice of language and his theory that Sam, who seemed perfectly happy, would commit suicide. Harry’s idiosyncrasies are highlighted at the local clinic, where he takes over as the town doctor despite his lack of expertise. These scenes mine impish humor from Harry’s mispronounced words, unfamiliarity with the human body, and horrid bedside manner. He’s a quick study, but he’s prone to misfires, like when he bungles a gynecological exam early on. “Okay, I see your problem—you sat on an earring,” he says, pulling at a genital piercing.
It isn’t long before the series weighs itself down with half-baked plotlines. Max (Judah Prehn), the young son of the town mayor (Levi Fiehler), has the one-in-a-million genetic ability to see through Harry’s molecular disguise and sets out to expose him, but his scheming goes nowhere slowly. Sheriff Mike Thompson (Corey Reynolds), who’s looking into Sam’s death, is a boilerplate macho man, and his deputy (Elizabeth Bowen), though endearing, is granted too little leeway to do anything but vent about the frustrations of working for him. Eventually, the late Dr. Vanderspeigle’s disgruntled ex (Elvy Yost) shows up at the cabin, bringing with her a penchant for lines that wink too hard at the show’s premise. “I thought we could at least talk about this like humans,” she says at one point, and “I feel alienated,” at another.
In contrast to these inchoate supporting characters, Asta serves as an effective foil, headstrong enough to challenge Harry and so caring and warm as to chip away at his contempt for humankind. Resident Alien’s dips into Asta’s tangled past and family life—which extend to the nearby Southern Ute Indian Reservation—reflect on loneliness and regret with unhurried thoughtfulness. And over the course of the series, Asta’s exchanges with D’arcy (Alice Wetterlund), her charmingly waggish childhood friend, provide welcome context for the secluded town that they both tried and failed to escape.
Resident Alien proves capacious in its depiction of Harry’s assimilation, too, as his callousness gradually gives way to empathy, resulting in poignant moments that ground his odyssey in deeply human experience. Halfway through the series, after a tiring day, Harry lies on the ground alongside Asta, looking up at the night sky. He apologizes, having spilled a secret she confided in him, and she forgives him. Harry’s nostrils flare, subtly, his almost-wet eyes focused on the stars. “I miss home,” he says. “I want to go home. I belong there.” It’s a surprisingly touching image, one of many that punctuate the series with exceeding vulnerability and crushing familiarity: a castaway lost, near-defeated but clinging to life.
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