7.4/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 7.4/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Poker at Eight remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Look, if you’ve got twenty minutes to kill and you enjoy old-school slapstick, sure, hit play. This isn’t going to change your life, but it’s a decent enough time-waster if you like the vibe of Hot Water or just classic, low-stakes comedy.
If you hate watching characters make the most obvious mistakes imaginable, skip it. You’ll be yelling at the screen before the first act even hits its stride.
Charley is the kind of guy who thinks he’s the smartest person in the room, which is the quickest way to make an audience laugh at you, not with you. The whole premise relies on this ridiculous idea of hypnotizing his wife just to sneak out for a poker game. It’s so thin, it’s practically invisible.
The way he waves that little gadget around? I couldn't help but chuckle. It’s the kind of prop work that feels like a toy pulled out of a cereal box. It’s not subtle. It’s barely even trying to look real. But that’s the charm, right?
The pacing is snappy, mostly because the movie has absolutely nowhere to go. We see the guys, we see the poker table, and we see the inevitable crash.
It’s not as polished as something like A Social Error, but there’s a certain sweatiness to the performances that I actually like. You can tell they were trying to keep the momentum moving before the joke wore out its welcome.
The ending lands with a thud, but honestly, what else were we expecting? Charley is the architect of his own misery, and watching the walls close in is the whole point. 🃏
I found myself wondering if I’d rather be playing poker with these guys or just watching the clock. Probably neither. But for a few minutes, it’s a fun little train wreck.