The unsettling landscape of dream logic doesn’t lend itself to many formats, least of all the rigidly formulaic, comfortingly predictable whodunnit. In trying to be both things at once, Lady in the Lake, though lavish and elegantly constructed, ends up coming across like Agatha Christie on acid. In the first 13 minutes, a man dressed as a mailbox urinates in a trash-strewn alley, grotesque oversize puppets lumber through a Thanksgiving parade by way of Tim Burton, a little girl discusses seahorses with a man whose eye is swollen shut, and a model posing in a department-store window laughs maniacally while watching a carcass being butchered on a black-and-white television.