An interesting concept, at least: A single, friendless realtor by day and birdhouse builder/airplane model maker by night decides his life is hollow and purposeless so he choose to incorporate killing serially into his routine.
Its execution, unfortunately, falls flat—the "chameleon" being no more interesting than realty itself and [spoiler alert] his new hobby is performed sans any panache or flair whatsoever, so I found it even less exciting than everything that came before.
As if that's even possible.
The actor (Henry Samuel Held) lacks charisma and the film easily runs 40-50 minutes too long, so the whole shebang feels tiresome, like busywork and homework.
Moreover, and so illogically, Held's character ("Knoll Ashby") is SO dang meticulous while building birdhouses and assembling plastic airplanes, but when it comes to killing, nothing's planned, so his preparation / execution / follow-through / limb separation / body disposal and subsequent cleanup are shoddy and willy-nilly half-assery.
The entire film falls painfully flat, so unless you're out of Ambien and your white noise machine is on the fritz, don't lose three hours of your life to this sad sack's tediousness.
