Security guard Steve Belmont (Eli Rich, The Jigsaw Murders) possesses MurderLust in his heart. The Sunday school teacher has a hobby of hiring hookers, but he only gets his rocks off by strangling them. Then he dumps their dead bodies off a desert cliff, eventually earning him the TV-news nickname of “the Mojave Murderer” — once the cops discover the spot, nine corpses (and untold vultures and flies) later. Steve seems not too terribly anxious about this development; he has bigger worries in ditching his check-seeking landlord.

From the five-time team of director Donald M. Jones and writer/producer James C. Lane (Housewife from Hell), MurderLust meanders around with little aim, yet, like Steve himself, acts like it knows what it’s doing. Steve appears to make moves toward normalcy, as he accepts a janitorial job at the grocery store run by his uptight cousin (Dennis Gannon, Jones/Lane’s Evil Acts) and romances a super-cute blonde (Rochelle Taylor) from church … but only because he was thwarted in killing her first.

While they know not of Steve-o’s predilection for prostitutes, we sure do, and the joy of the film is in seeing him somehow pull off this charade while acting like a grade-A asshole to damn near everybody. Rich gives a real performance here, if not a terribly nuanced one — certainly stronger than the average VHS shocker ever asked for or deserved. Primarily (but not exclusively) for that reason, MurderLust is an above-average example of its kind: a lumbering, semi-lovable goof of a movie that keeps most of its carnage out of sight and its purpose to entertain on the cheap thoroughly in check. —Rod Lott

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Perhaps the title Leaving Scars refers to star Lisa Boyle’s boob job? The Plasticine, pneumatic Playboy model headlines this would-be thriller as Diane, a bitchy, cocaine-snorting actress who runs for her life after goons discover she’s in possession of a computer disk. The in-demand object was given to her by a friend at a party minutes before said pal was killed for it.

At least Diane doesn’t have to play the fugitive game alone; she’s accompanied by some average Joe named Michael (Robin Downs, whose only other credit is 2004’s Retreat). They meet cute at the party when they both have to vomit. At first, they mix like vinegar and water, but well before the 90 minutes are up, they share a blue-tinted, soft-music sex scene — a given with Boyle, aka Cassandra Leigh, direct-to-video veteran of such Skinemax programming as Caged Heat 3000, I Like to Play Games and Dreammaster: The Erotic Invader. We learn that Boyle’s phony breasts are so far apart, her plastic surgeon could have fit two more breasts between them.

Leaving Scars leaves plot holes. Viewers are left not knowing exactly who’s who and what’s what, partly because director Brad Jacques (whose 2001 follow-up, Pray for Power, also stars Boyle) does us no favors by casting three eerily similar-looking guys in the supporting roles. As our lead, Boyle is unappealing on so many levels that you wish the killers would succeed; Shannon Whirry, she is not.

If you happen to catch Leaving Scars on DVD, go about nine-point-five minutes into chapter six, when the director and producer’s commentary — yes, this cheapie demanded a commentary — is interrupted by the arrival of the pizza they ordered! They spend about a minute trying to find the required $10.60 to pay for it, then proceed to make disgusting smacking noises as they attempt to simultaneously chat and chew. During one of the lengthy sex scenes, one of the filmmakers even lets out a deep belch while the other is gabbing. The moment is surreal, yet better than any of the film itself. —Rod Lott

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