Western audiences accustomed to the airborne theatrics, martial arts mayhem, and cartoon humor of Stephen Chow’s “Kung Fu Hustle” may blink when they see the advertisement for the Chinese writer-director-actor’s latest film, “CJ7,” his second to be released on these shores under a deal with Sony.

The film features a young boy and his “dog,” a shape-shifting gizmo from outer space that goes by the name — you guessed it — “CJ7.” The greenish glow and wide-eyed wonder of it all suggests that the shaggy-headed Mr. Chow, 45, has gone all Steven Spielberg on us. Not the latter-day Spielberg of “Schindler’s List” and “Saving Private Ryan,” but the post-“E.T.” 1980s Spielberg who oversaw toy-propelled phenomena such as “Gremlins” and “Batteries Not Included.”

Yet it’s not such new terrain for Mr. Chow, who plays a melodramatically impoverished laborer in “CJ7,” a man who struggles to raise his 9-year-old son while living off Dumpster food and stomping the cockroaches that infest their shack for sport. The comedian got his start as a character on a Hong Kong children’s TV show called “430 Shuttle” and also grew up poor before training at the famous Shaw Brothers acting school. Mr. Chow’s films (which also include 1999’s “The Tricky Master” and 2001’s “Shaolin Soccer”) always side with the underdog, who typically has a few tricks up his sleeve and the stubborn attitude to persist no matter what. Until now, that has meant adults, typically including Mr. Chow in the starring role. But, though his hyperactive camera style and outsize caricatures remain, in “CJ7” the director has finally fleshed out his childish aesthetic with a real child.

“I always wanted to do something like this,” Mr. Chow said. “In China, there’s not a lot for kids in terms of movies.” Visiting New York recently, Mr. Chow, whose casual English is quite passable, spoke through a translator. So imagine lengthy replies in Chinese, peppered with smiles and gestures, boiled down to succinct sentences. He was joined by Xu Jiao, the spirited young actress who bested all the boys who auditioned for the part of Dicky, the son of Mr. Chow’s luckless Ti. Her fingernails were painted pale blue, and her legs bounced on the hotel couch, where she leaned into Mr. Chow, poking him in the shoulder with her head.

Mr. Spielberg was definitely on his mind and had been since he first saw “E.T.” “It made me laugh,” he said. “It made me cry. I had all these different emotions, and it left a strong impression.”

In Mr. Chow’s variation, which arrives in New York next Friday, the discovery of a mysterious piece of space junk transforms the life of Dicky, who is bullied at the private school that Ti slaves and sacrifices to send him to. All the cool children have spiffy clothes and expensive high-tech toys to play with. When Dicky begins to knock the plain green orb around, it suddenly transforms into a magical pet. The big-eyed CGI creation resembles something between Gizmo, the cuddliest “gremlin,” and a “tribble” from “Star Trek,” but proves rather erratic when Dicky deploys it to settle a score with his classmate rivals. In an echo of various moral fables, Dicky gets his little butt kicked.

“There’s no free lunch in the world,” Mr. Chow said. He remembered being the same age as Xu Jiao and throwing a tantrum when his mother would not buy him a toy he wanted. His mother thrashed him for the behavior. The director wrote a similar episode into “CJ7.” “My parents were always disciplining me, and I never understood why,” he said. “Now, I know that parents love their children no matter what. It probably hurt them a lot more than me!”

As a movie father, Mr. Chow may not be perfect, but as a director he won the respect of his young star. “He’s very funny,” Xu Jian said. “But he’s also very strict. Sometimes he’ll be chatting with everyone, but the next moment he’ll be off in the corner.”