Sporting a plot that should have been left at the all-night dorm-room session
that might have spawned it, The Card Player at long last provides the
warmed-over serial-killer genre with the kick it needed—Internet poker playing.
Ah, the sad stench of former genius: Can this really be the same Dario Argento
who, for one deep-red '70s moment, seemed the most dangerous horror director
around? Some of his lurid flourishes hang on by fingernails, but Argento's eye
is gone; stripped of his legendary color palette and reduced to crafting
degraded video images, he is art cinema's most depressing casualty.