[1] Guillermo del Toros’s The Shape of Water is the latest meeting of the whimsical and the grotesque. The plot unfolds as follows: in the 1950s, Elisa is a cleaner at a military [4] research laboratory, who happens also to be mute, which places her among other minorities without a say: there is her African-American colleague Zelda and her neighbour, the artist [7] Giles, who is gay. The screenplay brings together the disenfranchised to save a fellow outcast. The amphibious monster kept captive at the lab [10] doesn’t have a name, and his idea of a witty and humorous conversation is to roar in your face. But Elisa takes a shine to him. “When he looks at me, he doesn’t know what I lack or [13] how I am incomplete.” In this film watertight ideas fight for space with flawed ones. It begins with a dream sequence in which Elisa’s [16] apartment is submerged. When the scene is repeated later for real, causing only a minor leak in the house below, the rational mind has too many objections (the floor would collapse!) for [19] the fantasy to survive. An amphibious humanoid with magic powers we can believe, but a flooded apartment that is as good as new one scene later doesn’t stand up. There are other [22] discrepancies too — like the sophisticated CCTV system in 1962, or the creature’s ability to wipe away the bulletholes in his own body, sealing up the wounds, ET-style.
Newstatesman, February 9th, 2018 (adapted)

Based on the text above, judge of following item.

In the text, the words “watertight” (R.14) and “flawed” (R.14) mean respectively incontestable and erroneous.