Who needs the Discovery Channel when you have Lake Placid? The ridiculous new monster thriller is rife with interesting tidbits about everyone's favorite reptile, the man-eating crocodile. Did you know crocodiles won't bite if you're underwater? Or that the species' biggest specimens can swim across oceans? Or that they are occasionally found in Maine?

Unfortunately, audiences will learn the real lessons of Lake Placid the hard way -- after they've already handed over their $8.50. Foremost among these is that screenwriter (and Ally McBeal creator) David E. Kelley should stick to penning God-awful sitcoms. A floundering mish-mash of lighthearted comedy, monster horror, and ecological proselytizing, Placid's half-baked story plays out like the mentally challenged offspring of Piranha and the new Flipper.

Make no mistake -- dumb monster movies can be tons of fun. Roger Corman became a legend making them (Humanoids from the Deep). James Cameron learned his craft helming one (Piranha II). But not even Jaws: The Revenge had the plot inconsistencies that Lake Placid sports. For example, the film opens with rural sheriff Hank Keogh (The General's Brendan Gleeson) looking on as a scuba-diving ranger is bitten in half by an underwater beast. Only a few scenes later, after eccentric millionaire Hector Cyr (Executive Decision's Oliver Platt) helps Game Warden Jack Wells (Bill Pullman) peg the peckish creature as a 35-foot crocodile, the two grab their wet suits and hop in the water. "They never attack while submerged," explains Cyr helpfully. Huh? So what happened to the ranger? Severe leg cramping?

Worse still, Placid's story line changes halfway through the film. Displaying a screenwriting schizophrenia not seen since From the Hip (which he also wrote), scripter Kelley switches narrative gears, moving the story from D-grade Alligator knock-off to a scaly take on Free Willy. Suddenly, Wells and company are trying to save the gargantuan gator from nasty Department of Fish and Game agents bent on turning him into designer luggage. After 15-odd minutes of eco-apologetic sermonizing -- after all, it's only the poor reptile's nature to munch on tourists -- the rangers decide to trap it alive, eventually using a wrecked helicopter as a giant choke collar. (Resourceful, eh? "Heel, Godzilla, heel!")

In most cases, charismatic actors could at least partially salvage such an awful script, but in the case of Lake Placid, they are among the film's biggest detriments. Playing a displaced Manhattan paleontologist, Bridget Fonda puts the "grrr" in "grating" by constantly whining the same complaint about the outdoors ("I have a thing about ticks," "I have a thing about mosquitoes," "I have a thing about dirt," etc.). The badly miscast Platt becomes insufferably annoying as he spews ridiculous pro-crocodile platitudes and calls his noticeably slimmer co-stars "fat." Irishman Gleeson's lilt comes and goes at random, and the ever-scowling Pullman looks like he's constantly scheming up some way to escape from the set.

In fact, there are only two watch-worthy things present in Steve "Soul Man" Miner's cold-blooded debacle. One is Jurassic Park effects wizard Stan Winston's impressively scary beastie, whose massive potential for terror is sadly underused. The other is the sheer delight of watching former Golden Girl Betty White cuss like a sailor as a foul-mouthed wilderness recluse. As for the rest of Lake Placid, the only horror viewers will experience while watching this turkey is the realization that they actually paid to see it.