‘THE Water Horse” re tells the tale of that strangely antisocial archaic mutant figure often spotted in the vicinity of Loch Ness: the Scotsman.
One wee li’l Scots boy finds an egg in Loch Ness in 1942, when daffy British officers are billeted in the area in case any Nazi submarines turn up. Out of the egg pops a slimy, toothy little creature with flippers that the boy feeds and calls Crusoe.
“E.T.”-style hijinks ensue: The thing flaps around in the bathtub, hides in the toilet, burps and purrs. Instead of hiding among stuffed toys, it blends in with kitsch statues at a fountain, while a bulldog named Churchill chases it with much crashing of vases and Mom (Emily Watson) is left in the dark.
A handyman (Ben Chaplin) who learns the kid’s secret turns out to be the world’s top expert on the Celtic sea horse legend, so he hangs around lobbing thick peaty hunks of exposition while the clueless English officers pose a threat to the animal, which must return to the loch.
As Crusoe grows up to be a cross between Dino and Flipper, a sort of cathedral-sized brontoduck, the movie is consistently cute and aggressively harmless. But by trying to be charmingly old-fashioned, it overshoots the mark and winds up being as musty as grandma’s lingerie drawer. The average 12-year-old will find it slow and predictable.
Adults will sniff out a general air of phoniness – the period detail isn’t particularly convincing, and the Scottish factor is overcooked to the point where the script starts to resemble the national cuisine.
“Come on, get some good Scottish air in those lungs!” someone urges an unconscious person. Scottish air? Reminds me of the old joke about the Jewish mother at the beach: “My son the doctor is drowning!”
THE WATER HORSE: LEGEND OF THE DEEP
E.T., phone Loch Ness.
Running time: 110 minutes. Rated PG (mild violence). At the 84th Street, the Orpheum, the Village 7, others.